REESE  LIBRARY 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


Sj — u — ir-u — u — u — u— u — i 


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7 


CJL. 


ANSELMO 


A    POEM. 


BY  GEORGE  R.  PARBURT. 


€iSt    LJBn^/y^^>_ 
OF  THE  ^ 

[VERSITY] 
OF  ~J 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

H.  H.  BANCROFT  &  COMPANY. 

1865. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  iu  the  year  1865,  by  GKOKGE  R.  PA.RBUKT, 
in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Northern  District  of 
California. 


VANUALL,  CARR  *  CO.  ,  I'lUNTKKi. 


ERRATA. 

ge  27,  verse  67— for  "Oh,"  read  "On." 

••     28.  "  70— lor  "riseth  on,"  read  "rise  upon." 

"     29.      "  73— for  "behold,  read  "beheld." 

"     42,  ••  25— for  "Day -good,"  read  "Day -God." 

••     50.      '•  48— for  "angel's,"  read  "angelic." 

••     61,  "  83— lor  "goodly,"  read  "godly." 

'     62,  ••  86— for  "love-stolen,"  read  "love's  stolen. 

"     71,  ••  9— for  "floated,"  read  "floateth." 

••     89,  «<  55— for  "reviivug,"  read  "reviving."    $, 

93.  ;-  68 — for  "shown,'' read  "shone." 

'     98.  "  1 — for  "humid,"  read  "lurid." 

"   114,  "  48 — for  "horsemen,"  read  "horseman." 

14  133.  "  27— for  "blast,"  read  "blest." 


€CF  THE  A, 

IVERSITY) 
OF  _S 


VANUALL,  CARR  A  CO.  ,  l>KlATKKi. 


(To 


Some  years  ago,— how  many — matters  not 
To  others;  by  ourselves  remembered  well; 

While  lingering  near  a  favorite  trysting  spot, 
There  was  a  promise  made;— why  ?      Who  shall  tell  ? 

Enough  for  us,  it  hath  not  been  forgot; 
On  its  performance  let  your  favor  dwell: 

The  promise  was,— ANSELMO,— then  a  dream, 

Should  don  the  habit  of  a  living  theme. 

At  the  first  glance  you  may  not  recognize 
The  fondling  of  our  days  of  young  romance: 

For  he  hath  grown  in  gracefulness  and  size, 
Like  children  icho  are  early  taught  to  dance; 

But  whoso  shall  his  features  scrutinize, 
And  make  allowances  for  life's  advance, 

Will  doubtless  be  quite  fully  satisfied 

The  child  is  in  the  man  identified. 

J)oth  it  not  argue  iveakness  to  forestall 

A  smile  of  irony  and  tone  sarcastic  ? 
"And  catt  you  this  ANSELMO?    7s  this  all 

Of  that  erratic  genius  once  so  plastic?" 
Patience,  my  LEILA— take  the  gift,  though  small: 

It  is  not  guileful,  nor  is  it  bombastic.— 
ANSELMO  hath  no  mysteries  to  unravel: 
So,  having  made  his  debut— let  7rim  travel. 


UNIVERSITY 


ANSELMO 


CANTO    FIRST. 

i. 
THE  Age  of  Gold  warms  not  with  themes  of  Love; 

It  throbs  not  with  the  impulse  of  Desire ; 
The  Vulture  is  its  emblem,  not  the  Dove; 

To  prey,  and  not  to  praise,  doth  it  aspire: 
Banks  are  its  temples — not  the  living-  grove ; 

Friendship  and  Faith  are  victims  of  its  fire: 
It  stamps  each  virtue  of  the  human  breast 
With  the  adulterous  face  of  interest. 

n. 
The  clink  of  Mammon  is  the  tone  extatic 

Of  this  Cash  Age,  yclept  Utilitarian; 
In  which  all  elements,  grave  and  erratic, 

Forsake  Elysia  to  become  Agrarian: 
Air,  water,  fire,  in  labors  are  pragmatic; 

The  glorious  Sun  a  wandering  Daguerrean; 
The  lightning  flits  away  from  heaven,  with  joy, 

To  outstrip  Time  as  Traffic's  errand-boy. 
A 


4  ANSELMO. 

III. 
Presumptuous  Age  !     Well  may  the  timid  Moon 

Wrap  her  soft  features  up  in  cloudy  sadness, 
Lest  in  thy  vanity  to  play  the  loon, 

Thou  shouldst,  with  gravely  mercenary  madness, 
Profane  her  charms,  by  offering  them  a  boon 

To  dusky  Labor  in  his  steaming  gladness; 
Making  her  beams  a  power  to  grind  a  grist  on, 
To  whirl  a  spindle,  or  to  drive  a  piston. 

IV. 

There  was  a  time  when  Luna  did  inspire 

In  blooming  vales,  on  mountain  top  and  ocean, 

Brave  youth  and  Beauty  with  profound  desire, 
To  analyze  that  hallowing  devotion, 

Shekina  of  love's  lip-enkindled  fire, 

Which  throbs  the  heart  with  rapturous  emotion: 

Wild,  as  Euroclydon  at  midnight  hour — 

Gentle,  as  Zephyrus  in  Flora's  bower. 

v. 
When  pensive  lovers,  lest  their  love  should  moulder, 

Sought  the  new  moon  for  timely  consolation, 
And  gazing  at  her,  over  the  right  shoulder, 

Renewed  their  vows  of  endless  adoration ; 
Till  moon-like,  nightly  waxing  warm  and  bolder — 

Fraught  with  the  pleasures  of  anticipation — 
They  sought,  they  found,  Love's  charming  ideality 
Excelleth  far  the  raptures  of  reality. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

VI. 
Maugre  the  Age  !     Love  is  my  theme  of  Song; 

A  youth  the  hero  of  my  untaught  lay; 
Who  whilom  dwelt,  where  grandly  flows  along 

The  proud  Potomac  through  Columbia; 
He  shunned  alike  the  vain  and  busy  throng 

Of  crafty  commerce  and  gay  revelry; 
To  woo  in  sylvan  solitudes  a  muse, 
Whose  charms  imbued  his  mind  with  pensive  hues. 

VII. 

Ofirtimes  he  wander'd  through  the  classic  grounds, 
His  cherished  Alma  Mater  yet  adorning; 

And  often,  where  the  river  wildly  bounds 

Over  rock  and  chasm,  like  a  sprite  forewarning, 

Rapt  as  a  babe  whom  slumberous  dreams  surround 
With  blissful  visions,  he  would  muse  till  morning, 

Drinking  deep  draughts  from  that  eternal  ocean, 

Where  stars  renew  their  glory  and  devotion. 

VIII. 

And  so  ANSELMO  thought  for  aye  to  find 

The  scene  unchanging,  and  unchanged  his  dream 

Of  mental  joys,  which  charm  the  youthful  mind, 
And  with  the  purer  lights  of  science  beam; 

He  knew  not  that  an  ever-varying  wind 

And  chainless  tide  control  Time's  rapid  stream, 

Dashing,  in  its  alternate  ebb  and  flow, 

Life's  cup  of  joy  with  bitter  draughts  of  woe. 


6  ANSELMO. 

IX. 
There  was  a  flower,  a  beautiful  wild  flower, 

Whose  bloom  and  fragrance  warrn'd  his  soul  with  love ; 
And  he  had  lingered  by  it  many  an  hour — 

Had  gazed  upon  it,  as  the  Saints  above 
Gaze  on  the  Throne  of  Light :  he  had  no  power, 

No  wish  to  pluck  it  from  its  native  grove. 
His  gaze  was  pure  and  lofty  admiration; 
His  love  the  holy  flame  of  adoration. 

x. 

He  saw  its  tender  sepals  softly  springing, 

In  velvet  leaflets  from  its  balmy  bud; 
He  watched  the  vernal  sunbeams  daily  bringing 

Light  as  the  rainbow  bending  o'er  the  flood, 
Sweet  as  the  harmonies  of  Angels  singing, 

Rich  as  the  blushes  of  the  fair  and  good — 
The  tints  of  heaven,  and  its  immortal  dews, 
To  enrich  its  petals  with  diviner  hues. 

XI. 

He  did  not  dream  his  heart  was  touched  with  love; 

He  had  not  even  thought  what  love  might  be ; 
Books  were  his  pride;  and  his  delight,  to  prove 

This  earth,  with  all  its  rivers  and  its  sea, 
Its  continents,  where  living  myriads  rove, 

A  point,  an  atom  in  immensity : 
The  starry  skies  only  a  brilliant  verse, 
In  the  grand  epic  of  the  universe. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XII. 

By  toilsome  process  doth  the  mind  attain 
The  ruder  outlines  of  unpolished  lore; 

While  with  severer  discipline,  the  brain 

Delves  from  the  mines  of  knowledge  richer  ore, 

And  smelts  the  crude  mass  o'er  and  o'er  again, 
Ere  it  doth  form  and  fashion  thoughts  mature, 

And  in  its  own  creations  can  combine 

The  strength  and  beauty  of  an  art  divine. 

xnr. 
Not  so  the  heart — the  strange,  impulsive  heart; 

It  hath  no  seasons  for  maturity; 
No  discipline  doth  by  degrees  impart 

To  it  the  lore  of  self-security; 
When  nature  gives  the  signal  for  the  start, 

With  all  the  zeal  of  conscious  purity, 
It  boundeth,  full-formed,  from  its  native  skies, 
To  win  the  goal  and  grasp  the  hallowed  prize : 

XIV. 

A  bud,  at  once  expanding  to  full  flower; 

A  spring,  diffusing  quickly  to  an  ocean; 
A  hidden  spark,  charged  with  volcanic  power; 

A  thought,  all  tremulous  with  profound  emotion; 
An  embryo,  maturing  in  an  hour; 

Desire,  burning  with  sublime  devotion: 
Alike  in  youth  and  age,  with  smile  and  tear, 
It  throbs,  the  wild  extremes  of  hope  and  fear. 


8  ANSELMO. 

XV. 
Dear  to  ANSELMO  was  the  fairy  child ; 

The  sole  companion  of  his  happy  hours; 
Her  sweet  simplicity  full  oft  beguiled 

Him  from  his  books,  to  rivulets  and  bowers ; 
Their  merry  laughter  rang  out  sweet  and  wild, 

As  each  the  other  crowned  with  wreaths  of  flowers : 
"Sister,"  he  lowly  sighed;  she  murmured,  "  Brother:" 
And  each  was  all  the  world  unto  the  other. 

XVI. 

A  lonely  girl  was  the  fair  ISABEL; 

And  solitary  seemed  her  honored  sire;' 
Few  were  his  words — and  yet  he  loved  her  well — 

Her  happiness  appeared  his  great  desire  : 
His  voice,  like  tones  of  pensive  music,  fell 

So  gently  on  her  ear,  it  did  inspire 
For  him  a  filial  reverence,  so  divine, 
She  could  not  of  her  loneliness  repine. 

XVII. 

He  made  no  mention  of  her  childhood  home, 
Nor  taught  her  to  repeat  a  Mother's  name, 

She  knew  not  why  he  did  an  exile  roam, 
Nor  what  his  sorrows  were,  nor  whence  he  came  : 

She  only  learned  that  in  the  time  to  come, 

There  did  await  her  honors,  wealth  and  fame; 

That  in  a  sunnier  clime  beyond  the  Sea, 

They  should  enjoy  serene  felicity. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 
XVIII. 

Though,  thus  the  bow  of  promise,  fair  and  bright, 
Bent  o'er  the  future  with  celestial  gleam ; 

The  past,  all  shadowy  as  a  restless  night, 
Or  like  the  flitting  fragment  of  a  dream, 

Would  rise  before  her : — one  lone  ray  of  light 
Just  breaking  on  oblivion's  darksome  stream: 

A  rose-bud,  opening  on  a  desert  heath; 

An  infant,  smiling  in  the  arms  of  death. 

XIX. 

Though  ISABEL  was  yet  a  child  in  years, 

Scarce  fourteen  summers  blooming  in  her  face, 

Her  smiles  were  sometimes  dimmed  with  anxious  tears ; 
O'er  her  soft  features  thought  would  often  trace 

The  shadowy  line  commingling  hopes  and  fears, 
And  make  the  present  seem  a  dreary  place: — 

A  lone  oasis  smiling  on  the  waste, — 

The  friendship  of  ANSELMO — warm  and  chaste. 


But  now  drew  near  the  hour  when  they  must  part; 

When  she  must  journey  with  her  sire  afar; 
The  tidings,  long-expected,  made  her  start, 

And  blanch  as  pallid  as  a  fading  star; 
Faintness  and  languor  fell  upon  her  heart, 

Her  eyes  suffused,  her  nerves  were  all  ajar  :       » 
She  hastened  from  her  father's  presence,  lest  he 
Should  seem  observant  of  her  misery. 

r  OF  THE 

•UNIVERSITY 


10  ANSELMO. 

XXI. 
In  gushing-  tears  she  sadly  sought  relief ; 

Tears  only  made  her  wish  to  weep  the  more; 
Slumber,  with  broken  dreams,  increased  her  grief ; 

She  seemed  to  wander  on  a  foreign  shore, 
Far  from  ANSELMO.      On  a  dismal  reef, 

The  surging  billows  with  wild  fury  bore 
A  shattered  bark,  upon  whose  quivering  prow, 
ANSELMO  stood  with  dark  and  troubled  brow. 

XXII. 

And  so  she  moaned  the  live-long  night  away, 
Nor  thought  of  love  as  cause  of  such  distress; 

She  longed  the  coming  of  the  tardy  day, 
That  on  ANSELMO'S  bosom  she  might  rest 

Her  weary  head;  and,  like  a  child  at  play, 
Receive,  reciprocate  his  warm  caress; 

And  fondly  gazing  in  his  loving  eyes, 

See  her  own  image  dance  in  fairy  skies. 

XXIII. 

Ah,  well-a-day  !  caresses  cure  not  love: 

She  told  him  all  her  sorrows;  and  she  wept: 

He  could  not  weep — he  had  no  tears  to  prove 
His  love: — at  once  his  youthful  spirit  leapt 

To  lofty  manhood — -in  agony  he  strove 

To  quell  the  mystic  power  which  had  slept, 

Dreamless,  within  his  heart,  but  now  arose 

Majestic  from  its  long  and  deep  repose. 


ANSELMO.  11 

XXIV. 

There  is  a  glance  of  purity,  which  wakes 
The  hallowed  flame  of  love's  consuming  fire; 

There  is  a  touch  of  tenderness,  which  makes 
Its  object  thrill  with  rapturous  desire ; 

A  sigh,  which  fraught  with  fervid  passion,  shakes 
To  earth  the  blossoms  which  to  heaven  aspire  : 

So  round  the  heart  of  charming  ISABEL, 

The  love-emotions  of  ANSELMO  fell. 

XXV. 

Love  rules  the  hour  !     Their  hearts  dissolve  in  love, 
And  mingle  in  its  dear,  delicious  dream; 

Impassioned  sighs  their  soft  affections  move; 
Their  souls  overflow  with  passion's  rosy  stream; 

Their  blending  thoughts  expand  and  soar  above, 
Lighting  their  eyes  with  a  diviner  gleam; 

Their  spirits  glow  with  love's  refining  fire, 

And  quaff  the  bliss  which  earth  and  heaven  inspire 

XXVI. 

As  if  entranced  with  his  deep  emotion, 

Her  brow  reflecting  heaven's  chastened  ray, 

In  the  soft,  silent  rapture  of  devotion, 
She  listened  to  this  half-reproachful  lay: 

"  I  wildly  drift  o'er  Love's  tumultuous  ocean! 
Where  is  my  heart  ?  Ah,  whither  doth  it  stray  ? 

Say  not,  my  ISABEL,  that  we  must  sever, 

Ah,  me!  thine  eyes  glow  like  love's  luminous  quiver! 


12  ANSELMO. 

XXVII. 

"Their  heaven-tinted  shafts  of  living  fire, 
Pierce  through  my  spirit  like  ethereal  light, 

And  with  warm,  deep,  insatiate  desire, 
Fasten  my  gaze  upon  thy  ravishing  sight! 

Oh,  turn  thine  eyes  away!  Nay,  now  inspire, 
And  crush  me  with  intensely  fond  delight! 

My  soul  responsive  to  thy  glance  of  love, 

Soars  beyond  stars — disdaineth  thrones  above. 

XXVIII. 

"  Thy  cheek  on  mine  allays  its  feverous  glow; 

My  heart  burns,  unconsumed  with  quenchless  fire; 
Thy  balmy  kisses  so  divinely  flow, 

My  bosom  bursts  with  surges  of  desire; 
Oh,  take  thy  lips  from  mine !  my  joys  overflow — 

I  faint  with  bliss — with  rapture  I  expire! 
Nay!  Soothe  my  passions  with  thy  lips'  life-balm! 
Kiss  me  into  madness!  kiss  my  phrenzy  calm!  " 

XXIX. 

Responsive  thus: — with  young  love's  artless  grace, 

She  softly  warbled  this  melodious  measure, 
Symphonious  echoes  floating  o'er  her  face, 

Her  eyes  effulgent  with  love's  liquid  pleasure, 
Her  form  to  him  concentrating  all  space, 

Her  lips  yet  thrilling  with  that  rapturous  pressure, 
Love's  ruby  seal,  to  Angels  never  given, 

Blossom  of  earth,  more  rich  than  fruits  of  Heaven: 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0.  13 

1. 

In  my  soul  a  star  is  shining, 

Dissipating  all  its  fears: 
On  thy  bosom,  now  reclining, 

All  my  passions  melt  in  tears ; 
Star  of  beauty!     Star  of  power! 

Far  excelling  stars  above; 
Tell  me,  in*  this  happy  hour, 

Art  thou  not  my  star  of  love  ? 

2.. 
In  my  heart  a  fount  is  springing, 

Limpid,  sparkling,  bubbling,  bright; 
Fairy  forms  around  it  singing, 

Love  is  warm  and  pure  as  light. 
Fount  of  healing!  Fount  of  pleasure! 

Murmuring  through  affection's  grove; 
Thy  rich  streams,  in  charmful  measure 

Warble,  'tis  the  fount  of  love ! 

3. 

Star  refulgent,  shine  forever! 

Make  my  spirit  glow  like  thine! 
Rosy  fountain,  like  a  river, 

Flood  my  soul  with  joys  divine! 
Burn  within  me  like  devotion, 

Star  excelling  stars  above! 
Fountain  flow  out  like  an  ocean, 

Boundless  as  eternal  love! 


14  ANSELMO. 

XXX. 

Brilliant  and  brief,  as  on  the  brow  of  night 

Gloweth  the  gleaming  meteor's  beauteous  bloom; 

So  quick  and  radiant  in  its  rapid  flight, 

The  bliss  which  left  their  spirits  wrapt  in  gloom: 

Ere  they  had  drained  the  first  draughts  of  delight, 
Their  youthful  hearts,  as  with  prophetic  doom, 

Trembled  with  fancies  undefined  and  fearful, 

Till  they  were  silent,  sorrowful  and  tearful. 

XXXI. 

The  crystal  streamlet,  murmuring  through  the  grove, 
Is  more  delightsome  than  its  torrent  rush, 

And  more  resembling  the  pure  light  above 

The  cheek's  soft  glow  when  fades  the  ruddy  blush: 

So,  sadness  is  the  luxury  of  love, 

Of  first-love's  youngest,  warmest,  wildest  gush: 

In  love  harmoniously  all  passions  move, 

And  tearful  silence  is  the  heaven  of  love. 

XXXII. 

The  golden  Sun,  now  lingering  in  the  West, 
Transported,  shed  love's  halo  all  around  them; 

The  feathered  warblers  sought  the  shade  for  rest, 
Erratic  with  the  harmony  which  bound  them; 

The  flowers  sank  languid  on  their  mother's  breast, 
The  earth  confessed  the  bliss  which  did  surround  them : 

The  balmy  eve,  love-laden  from  the  skies, 

Descending,  made  the  scene  a  Paradise. 


ANSEL  M  O.f?l\ 

\          „        OF 

XXXIII. 

Oh,  love — first-love!  how  beautiful  thou  art  I 
All  things  grow  lovely  in  thy  loving  light: 

Thine  empire  is  the  universe ;  the  heart, 

The  young  heart,  is  the  home  of  thy  delight; 

There  thou  dost  reign  supreme ;  no  guileful  art 
Can  enter  there  to  breathe  its  moral  blight: 

Thou  art  all  trust  and  truth — to  thee  is  given 

Divinest  bliss — for  where  thou  art  is — Heaven. 

xxxiv. 
Beneath  a  maple,  branching  wide  and  free — 

The  witness  of  their  first  full  day  of  love, 
Whose  branches,  tuneful  with  love's  minstrelsy, 

Whose  leaves  were  breathing  airs  saints  might  ap- 
They  bowed  together  in  rapt  reverie ;  [prove — 

Their  hands  were  joined,  their  eyes  were  fixed  above: 
No  word  was  spoken,  and  no  pledge  was  given — 
Their  marriage-vow  was  registered  in  heaven. 

xxxv. 
What  need  of  words  from  lips  so  warm  and  true  ? 

What  need  of  pledge  from  hearts  so  fully  one  ? 
The  air  they  breathed  was  love;  the  twilight  hue 

So  light  with  love,  they  needed  not  the  sun 
To  cheer  their  footsteps  homeward ;   early  dew, 

Love-lit,  like  stars,  upon  their  pathway  shone: 
The  parting  kiss  was  given  o'er  and  o'er, 

And  sanctioned  with  a  thousand  kisses  more. 
B 


16  ANSELMO. 

XXXVI. 
How^little  did  those  youthful  lovers  dream, 

When  thus  so  lovingly  they  bade  good-night: 
The  flowery  banks  of  Time's  delusive  stream    [bright; 

Are  strewn  with  wrecks  of  hopes  —  once  fair  and 
Of  joys,  once  rich  and  warm,  and  as  supreme 

In  all  which  gives  the  human  heart  delight, 
As  those  which  all  that  blissful  day  came  down 
From  Heaven,  their  young  and  holy  love  to  crown. 

XXXVII. 

A  few  bright  hours  :  the  morning  light  appears; 

The  scene  hath  changed:  is  it  a  magic  spell? 
Or,  hath  she  realized  her  darkest  fears  ? 

Alas!  ANSELMO,  loving  ISABEL 
Hath  grief  too  deep  to  find  relief  in  tears: 

She  journeys  with  her  father;  nor  can  tell 
To  him  her  love ;  nor  how  his  acts,  unspoken, 
Have  severed  two  fond  hearts,  and  left  them  broken. 

XXXVIII. 

On  still  she  journeys,  noting  not  the  time,         [years: 
Save  that  the  days  seem  weeks,  the  nights  long 

She  knew  not  when  she  reached  that  sunnier  clime, 
The  object  once  of  hopes,  but  late  of  fears; 

Where  youth  and  beauty  spring  to  life  sublime, 
And  move  at  once  in  love's  more  perfect  spheres: 

Enough  to  know,  that  from  ANSELMO  parted, 

Her  dreams  revealed  him  wandering,  broken-hearted. 


ANSELMO.  17 

XXXIX. 

What  now  were  books  to  him?    Had  he  not  read 
The  breathing  pages  of  a  human  heart? 

Of  woman's  heart  ? — whose  every  line  doth  shed 
A  glory  science  never  can  impart; 

Had  traced  all  passions,  to  their  fountain-head 
Of  love-eternal,  on  this  living  chart: 

His  sky,  a  raging  tempest  overcast, 

His  hopes,  his  joys,  were  scattered  to  the  blast. 

if 

XL. 

Lonely  and  sad,  he  wandered  far  away 

From  boyhood  friendships,  beautiful  as  brief ; 

On  mountain  crags,  where  the  wild  chamois  play; 
On  ocean  isles,  unshaded  by  a  leaf; 

In  almond  groves,  where  youth  and  beauty  stray, 
He  sought  allayment  for  his  love  and  grief: 

But  found,  nor  distant  sea,  nor  varying  clime, 

Hath  half  the  solace  of  revolving  time. 

XLI. 
Where  the  proud  Hudson  the  bold  highlands  laves, 

Sweeping  nature's  lofty  battlements  between, 
And  spreads  below  in  broad  and  joyous  waves, 

Kissing  the  flowery  lawns  and  groves  serene; 
There,  midst  ancestral  domicils  and  graves, 

Despite  corroding  years,  yet  staunch  and  green, 
ANSELMO  found  in  friendship's  smile  and  tear, 
Rest  and  relief  from  travel  and  from  care. 


18  ANSELMO. 

.  XLII. 
The  genial  quiet  of  his  Hudson  home, 

Like  dew  distilling  on  the  thirsty  flower, 
To  charm  him  from  the  restless  wish  to  roam, 

Did  promise  fair  with  its  beguiling  power; 
And  with  the  aid  of  melody  and  tome, 

And  fairy  forms  in  rustic  halls  and  bower, 
To  win  back  the  young  wanderer,  and  impart 
Love's  mellow  lustre  to  his  way-worn  heart. 

XLIII. 
The  boldest  projects  of  the  human  soul 

Oft  burst  like  bubbles  on  the  rock  of  fate; 
Wise  schemes,  which  would  our  destiny  control, 

A  breath  of  air — a  dream — may  dissipate: 
And  he  believed  in  dreams,  and  that  dread  scroll 

Necessity  rolls  up  for  small  and  great, 
Which  sleep  unrolls  for  dreamers  to  explore, 
And  light  their  spirits  with  prophetic  lore. 

XLIV. 
ANSELMO,  in  a  vision  of  the  night, 

Stood  on  the  summit  of  a  pine-crowned  hill; 
And,  on  the  smooth  sea,  slumbering  in  moonlight, 

Saw  pass  before  him,  spirit-like  and  still, 
A  form  divinely  fair — a  child  of  light — 

Whose  sea-shell  shallop,  guided  by  her  will, 
Moved  o'er  the  ocean's  eddy-dimpling  bosom, 
Graceful  as  Nautilus — light  as  a  blossom. 


ANSELMO.  19 

%  XLV. 

Waving  her  fair  right  hand,  her  loose  attire 
Disclosed  a  diamond  cross  upon  her  breast: 

He  knew  the  sacred  charm;'  again  the  fire 
Of  love  rekindled,  with  its  deep  unrest; 

Its  sweet  delirium,  and  wild  desire ; 

Its  hopes  all-wavering,  and  its  fears  all  blest: 

She  pointed  to  the  sunny  South,  and  said, 

"There  shall  we  meet!" — the  blissful  vision  fled. 

XLVI. 
Faith,  once  triumphant,  never  yields  her  sway; 

Her  children  never  learn  the  word — defeat: 
ANSELMO  rose  up  with  the  dawn  of  day; 

Home  and  its  joys  were  prostrate  at  his  feet: 
The  sole  companion  of  his  wandering  way, 

A  harp,  though  old,  yet  tremulously  sweet, 
Which,  long  responsive  to  his  hope  and  fear, 
Oft  soothed  his  heart,  and  charmed  his  tuneful  ear. 

XLVII. 
A  mellow  morn  in  June:  the  springing  flowers, 

The  emerald  grass  with  dewy  diamonds  strung, 
Danced  in  the  sunbeams;  silver-fringed  showers 

Skirted  the  west;  Iris,  aerial  sprung 
The  Hudson ;  dreamy  kine  breathed  balmy  hours ;  [sung : 

Flocks  gayly  frisked ;  bright  birds  blithe  anthems 
Beneath  an  elm,  shading  the  cottage  nigh, 

He  viewed  this  scene,  and  sang  this  gay  good-bye: 
B* 


20  A  N  6  E  L  M  0  . 

1. 

My  gentle  harp,  we  now 

Will  join  our  notes  in  tuneful  lays; 
Unwreathe  dull  care  from  off  our  brow, 

And  welcome  happier  days. 
What  !     Tremblest  thou  with  fear? 

Seest  thou  some  lurking  danger  nigh? 
Are  joys  we  leave  behind  too  dear 

To  bid  them  all  good-bye  ? 

2. 

Ah,  what  are  home  and  friends, 
When  spirits  beckon  us  away 
To  love-lit  shrines,  where  beauty  blends 

Our  hope  and  destiny  ? 
Pale  sadness,  now  depart; 

And  thou,  my  bosom,  breathe  no  sigh; 
Now  cheerfully,  brave,  loving  heart, 
Bid  friends  and  home  good-bye. 

3. 

My  birth-place,  thee  I  greet, 

Thou  fairest  of  Potomac's  daughters; 
Next  loving  friends — this  dear  retreat, 

And  Hudson's  rolling  waters: 
My  star  of  destiny, 

Love-blooming  lights  the  southern  sky, 
And  beckons  me — so,  cheerfully, 

I  bid  you  all  good-bye. 


ANSELMO.  21 

4. 

My  native  land,  good-bye! 

Fate  points  me  to  a  foreign  shore; 
Love's  labor  wrought,  to  thee  I'll  fly, 

And  rest  me  evermore : 
On  some  lone  mountain  crag, 

Or  in  thy  free,  unfathomed  wave, 
Happy,  if  but  my  country's  flag 

Float  proudly  o'er  my  grave ! 

XLVIII. 
And  thus  ANSELMO  left  his  highland  home, 

And  wandered  onward  to  the  far  sea-side; 
Buoyant  and  blithesome  as  the  lightsome  foam 

Bubbling  around  his  foot-prints  in  the  tide ; 
By  love's  own  inspiration  forced  to  roam, 

He  scanned  the  rolling  ocean  far  and  wide, 
With  the  nonchalance  of  an  amateur, 
Who  dares  the  storm  and  mocks  its  dismal  roar. 

XLIX 
Borne  on  the  pinions  of  imagination, 

His  muse  with  gleesome  exultation  flies, 
Weaving  some  golden  gossamer  creation, 

Finer  than  earth  and  fairer  than  the  skies, 
But  finds  no  lustre  like  the  corruscation 

Which  flasheth  forth  from  lovely  woman's  eyes; 
So  soft,  effulgent,  dazzling,  melting,  tender — 
Who,  blest  with  such  an  angel,  e'er  would  lend  her. 


22  AXSELMO. 

L. 
To  his  confessor?     Still  less  to  a  sinner, 

Or  to  his  oldest  friend,  or  youngest  brother  ? 
For  though  she  were  in  love  a  mere  beginner, 

Fraught  with  the  lessons  of  a  virtuous  mother, 
And  there  should  be  no  effort  made  to  win  her, 

Would  not  her  fancy  prompt  to  wound  another  ? 
To  hurl  one  shaft  of  love  with  soft  velocity, 
Merely  to  gratify  her  curiosity  ? 

LI. 
And  who  would  chide  her  ?     She  alone  inspires 

The  dullard,  man,  to  deeds  of  noblest  duly; 
She  kindles  in  his  heart  immortal  fires; 

Refines  his  sordid  passions  for  mere  booty; 
O'erwhclms  his  soul  with  joy  and  warm  desires, 

Till  at  the  roseate  shrine  of  love  and  beauty 
Prostrate,  he  cries — "  My  undefiled!  my  dove! 
Stay  me  with  flagons  ;  I  am  sick  of  love!" 

LIT. 
Woman  is  the  lily  which  adorns  the  river; 

A  flowering  vine,  fragrant  with  ripening  cluster; 
A  fount  of  living  joys,  which  flow  forever; 

A  gem  of  finest  ray  and  purest  lustre. 
Her  love  is  better  far  than  wine ;  she  never 

Forgives  a  captive  who  doth  once  distrust  her: 
And  woman,  too — it  may  be  a  mere  notion — 
Hath  much  resemblance  to  the  rolling  ocean! 


ANSELMO.  23 

.<»  Lin- 

From  old-times  to  the  present,  the  Atlantic. 

Like  womankind,  with  various  affection 
Inspireth  voyagers :  while  some  seem  antic, 

Others  appear  to  suffer  from  dejection; 
Some  reeling  leeward,  grow  profanely  frantic; 

While  all  from  mutinous  stomachs  seek  protection: 
Love-sick,  no  doubt — what  else  could  so  excite  them? 
So  much  annoy — so  nauseously  delight  them  ? 

LIV. 
A  woman's  love  is  shoreless  as  the  ocean; 

Her  peace  more  calm  than  ocean's  blandest  hour; 
Far  more  profound  the  depths  of  her  devotion: 

His  wrath  sublime;  hers  maketh  conquerors  cower; 
He  wrecketh  navies  in  his  dark  commotion; 

She  crusheth  armies  in  her  wanton  power. 
Alike  their  bosoms  bare,  with  free  translation, 
For  noblest  craft  of  every  age  and  nation. 

LV. 
Lonely,  amidst  a  throng  at  sultry  noon, 

While  sadly  gazing  on  the  yielding  wave, 
Wreathing  the  gallant  prow  with  curls,  and  soon 

Subsiding  quietly,  as  doth  a  slave 
Eetire,  when  he  with  menial  hands  hath  strewn 

Fresh  flowers  upon  an  honored  master's  grave, 
Where  gentle  ones  should  scatter  every  leaf, 

And  keep  them  humid  with  the  dews  of  grief. 

^"jgaSE   UBR4^ 

UNJVERSITT 

OF 


24  ANSELMO. 

LVI.  . 

Low  voices  whispered :     Through  life's  varying  clime, 
Mortals  move  on  as  trackless  as  the  wind: 

There  are  no  foot-prints  on  the  sea  of  Time, 
Save  the  bold  imagery  of  lofty  mind; 

With  rapture  soar  the  souls,  whose  thoughts  sublime, 
The  themes  of  wisdom  and  of  truth  unbind; 

They  revel  on  the  everlasting  heights, 

Where  faith  reveals  to  love  its  balmiest  flights. 

LVII. 
Thoughtfully  musing  on  familiar  scenes, 

Receding  fast,  full-long — perhaps,  for  aye: 
Weehawken,  wrapt  in  solitude  serene; 

Manhattan,  empress  of  the  land  and  sea; 
Gowanus,  and  the  Islands  gay  and  green, 

Where  ever  float  the  banners  of  the  free, 
Till  startled  memory,  like  a  surging  wave, 
Portrayed  a  bridal  wreath — a  yawning  grave. 

LVIII. 
Repressing  symptoms  of  intense  emotion; 

He  turns  from  sorrow's  sombre  shade  away, 
And  hails  with  sweet  surprise  and  deep  devotion, 

The  Narrows  merging  in  the  sounding  sea: 
He  hastes  to  give  thee  greeting,  proud  old  ocean, 

And  glory  in  thy  grand  immensity: 
Time,  like  thy  tide,  from  Montauk  to  the  sea, 
Rusheth  on  to  mingle  with  eternity. 


ANSELMO.  25 

LIX. 

Chiefly  the  future  wishing  to  survey, 

His  vision  oversweepeth  ships  and  shores ; 

On,  on  the  vista  openeth,  as  the  day, 
Broad,  brighter,  beautiful,  until  it  pours 

Brilliance  on  all  things.     Surging  on  his  way, 

At  sunset,  winds  were  marshalling  clouds  to  wars 

Of  storms  and  tempest;  flushing,  fluttering — 

Night  soothed  thee  under  her  maternal  wing. 

LX. 
Now  passionless  and  placid  as  above  thee, 

In  azure  beauty  blooms  the  summer  sky, 
So  mellow,  languishing,  who  would  not  love  thee  ? 

Gloat  on  thy  bosom  with  lascivious  eye  ? 
Thou  seemest  as  if  nought  could  ever  move  thee 

To  wrath — to  roll  thy  billows  up  on  high; 
The  horizon  now  so  beautifully  rounded, 
Only  by  thee,  and  by  the  sky  is  bounded. 

LXI. 
Poets  have  sung  thy  towering  wrath  suMime ; 

Have  praised  the  more  sublime  magnificence 
Of  thy  majestic  calm;  in  stately  rhyme 

Have  crowned  thee  likest  to  Omnipotence ! 
These  strains  were  only  the  far-echoing  chime 

Of  their  fine  phrenzy's  peerless  eloquence, 
Rolling  through  earth  and  heaven,  in  lofty  numbers, 
To  waken  both  spheres  from  untuneful  slumbers. 


26  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LXII. 
Thou  art  no  emblem  of  eternity! 

Law  mocks  thee  with  a — "thus  far  shalt  thou  go!" 
Thou  art  no  image  of  the  Deity: 

Unstable!     Uncreative!     Apropos 
Of  Godhead — -thou  hast  taint  of  lunacy? 

What  dost  thou  when  thy  proudest  currents  flow  ? 
Like  a  sick  swain,  whose  love  retires  too  soon, 
Thou  meanest  night-long  to  the  wanton  moon. 

LXIII. 
The  laughing  zephyr  wakes  thy  frowning  mood; 

The  sportive  gale  excites  thy  roaring  rage; 
The  drowsy  calm  lulleth  thy  billowy  flood 

Thou  sport  of  revelling  winds  in  every  age! 
Full  many  a  day  and  night  on  deck  he  stood, 

To  scan  thy  breadth,  thy  boundlessness  to  gage, 
Hoping  to  find  thy  realms  as  broad  as  day; 
Fearing  proofs  might  tear  the  cherished  thought  away. 

LXIV. 
Full  soon  the  land  appeared;  the  bubble  broke; 

The  blissful  vision  like  a  phantom  fled; 
The  grand  idea  was  gone;  aiid  he  awoke 

From  the  fond  dream  with  aching  heart  and  head; 
His  soaring  fancy  owned  the  enchanter's  stroke, 

And  fell,  as  if  from  heaven,  among  the  dead! — 
7Tis  sad  to  learn  the  Navigators'  line, 
Proves  thou  art  neither  boundless  nor  divine. 


ANSELMO.  27 

LXV. 

But  woman  is  divine !     She  lives  in  love ; 

She  breathes  the  breath  of  immortality; 
She  walks  in  beauty;  soars  where  angels  rove; 

Blends  all  the  charms  of  ideality! 
Her  plastic  spirit  grasps  the  bliss  av>ove ; 

Warms  spirit-shades  to  fond  realities  ! 
Her  boundless  heart  proud  man  can  never  measure ; 
Her  soul  divine  pants  for  immortal  pleasure. 

LXVI. 
But,  hist  thee,  old  Atlantic:  younder  sun 

Now  gloweth  on  thee  as  magnificent 
As  when  old  Time  the  march  of  life  begun, 

By  leading  blushing  day  before  his  tent; 
When  earth,  and  morn,  and  man  his  favor  won — 

Doth  he  not  image  forth  the  Omnipotent? 
When  thou  shalt  be  no  more,  that  sun  will  be 
Man's  noblest  emblem  of  the  Deity. 

LXVII. 
Oh,  heedless  on  thou  rollest,  bounding  billow, 

Freighted  with  blissful  joy,  and  sootheless  sorrow: 
The  gentle  bosom  which  hath  been  the  pillow 

Of  one  lone  heart — which  throbs  a  dark  to-morrow — 
Now  yearns  for  rest  beneath  the  weeping  willow,  [row 

And  long  ere  spring  shall  come,  from  grief  may  bor- 
Her  dark  funereal  robe;  may  feel  the  pressure 
Of  that  mould-depth,  no  line  of  light  can  measure. 


28  ANSELMO. 

LXVIII. 
Away,  sad  fears:  away,  all  dark  foreboding: 

Who  can  resist  a  destiny  impelling  ? 
Grief  brings  its  own  cure  in  its  dull  corroding; 

Time  hath  the  gift  of  mystery-dispelling; 
Death  will  unlade  poor  mortals  of  their  loading, 

And  soothe  their  sorrows  in  his  silent  dwelling: 
Restiveness  never  made  the  weary  stronger, 
Nor  patience  the  exhausting  journey  longer. 

LXIX. 
See!  down  the  West,  voluptuously  reclining, 

In  tropic  beauty,  Cuba  doth  repose: 
A  bolder  outline  southwardly  defining, 

Jamaica  in  full  vernal  glory  glows ; 
Eastward  away,  like  some  high-priest  divining,  [snows, 

Clad  in    summer's  gorgeous  vestment  fringed  like 
More  proudly  than  among  the  Greeks,  Achilles — 
Riseth  fair  Hayti,  Queen  of  the  Antilles. 

LXX. 
Three  rival  kingdoms  riseth  on  the  vision; 

Three  foreign  nations  in  our  own  broad  seas; 
One  in  their  hatred — one  in  their  derision 

Of  Freedom's  banner  floating  on  the  breeze — 
Whose  Stars  shall  light  the  world — heal  all  division, — 

And  guide  America's  high  destinies: 
Columbia's  constellation,  like  devotion, 
Inspires  the  free  and  brave  on  land  and  ocean. 


ANSELMO.  29 

LXXI. 

Islands  of  beauty!  Isles  of  the  golden  West! 

Perennial  glory  crowns  your  lofty  brows; 
For  your  fair  groves  Autumn  weaves  no  sombre  vest-, 

Winter's  icy  hand  plucks  not  your  fruitful  boughs; 
Spring  wantons  on  your  softly-swelling  breast, 

And  fruitful  Summer  is  your  faithful  spouse: 
The  seasons  in  their  course  renew  your  pleasures; 
The  year  rolls  round  to  renovate  your  treasures. 

Lxxn. 
Grandly  emerging  from  the  depths  of  ocean; 

Symmetrical  as  heaven-constructed  towers; 
Your  air,  the  balmy  breath  of  love's  emotion; 

Your  daughters  fairer  than  their  native  bowers; — 
Well  might  those  sons  of  God,  whose  fond  devotion 

To  earth-born  maidens,  chose  to  spend  their  hours 
Of  soft  dalliance,  luscious-lingering  kisses, 
Mid  isles  so  fair,  so  redolent  of  blisses. 

Lxxm. 
Fair,  as  when  full  three  centuries  gone  by, 

Ye  wonderingly  behold  a  glorious  One, 
Clad  in  the  panoply  of  Earth  and  Sky, — 

Bearing  on  his  thigh  the  sword  of  Arragon — 
And  in  his  hand,  that  emblem  from  on  high, 

The  conquering  Cross  of  God's  eternal  Son: — • 
Who  in  the  light  of  Woman's  smile,  unfurled 
The  Western  skies,  and  gave  her  back — a  World! 


30  ANSELMO. 

LXXIV. 
There  was  a  time — it  was  when  Time  was  youthful— 

Ere  his  smooth  chin  grew  dark  with  rolling  ages; 
When  marts  were  fair  and  free,  and  merchants  truthful ; 

And  man  was  just,  without  the  rules  of  sages; 
When  Law  was  Right:  Theology  was  sootheful: 

And  Physic,  like  the  kiss  of  maids  and  pages, 
Taken  for  pleasure,  and  reciprocated, 
To  keep  the  blood  cool  and  umnedicated: — • 

LXXV. 
When  blooming  Time,  in  bridal  robes  attired, 

Led  forth  the  Seasons  from  primeval  bowers; 
Gently  his  right  hand  blushing  Spring  inspired,    [ers, 

While  Summer,  decked  with  wreathes  of  fadeless  flow- 
Joined  hands  with  fruit-crowned  Autumn;  all  admired 

How  pensive  Winter's  heart  dissolved  in  showers, 
When  in  his  left  he  drew  her  right,  with  cheer, 
Forming  the  mystic  circle  of  the  Year: 

LXXVI. 
Such  was  the  time — a  pleasant  time,  forsooth, 

When  down  the  beatific  valleys  wended 
A  noble  group  of  gay  arid  gallant  youth, 

Who  from  the  parapets  of  heaven  descended 
To  see  the  Miss  of  Earth — and  prove  the  truth, 

That  beauty,  life  and  love  in  woman  blended: 
But  where  they  found  their  soul-enchanting  women, 
Is  yet  a  problem  to  divines  and  seamen. 


ANSELMO.  31 

LXXVII. 

Bend  to  thy  swelling  canvass,  noble  Crescent; 

Thoughts  of  oppression  crowd  my  burning  brain; 
Where  is  the  yeoman's  cot — the  free-born  peasant  ? 

Doth  man  here  writhe  beneath  the  galling  chain  ? 
The  dark  inquisitor  and  thong  are  present, 

The  struggle — and  the  darker  tyrant's  reign: 
Haste — for  though  lovelier  than  the  fair  Bahamas, 
These  Eden-islands  have  been  Aceldamas. 

LXXVIII. 
Faith  softly  whispers: — yet  a  little  while: 

The  day  of  their  redemption  draweth  nigh ; 
Power  can  not  stay,  nor  diplomats  beguile 

The  quickstep  march  of  their  proud  destiny; 
Fate  points  the  hour  when  Liberty  shall  smile 

On  these  fair  sea-girt  Isles  benignantly; — 
And  lead  them  forth  in  starry  robes  divine, 
To  join  Columbia's  hosts  at  Freedom's  shrine. 

LXXIX. 
Southward ;  south-westwardly  sublimely  sweeping 

Over  the  jealous  Carribean  Sea, 
Whose  restless  bosom,  like  a  woman  weeping, 

Throbs  with  a  sigh  and  heaves  tumultuously, 
When'eer  the  zephyr,  in  its  embrace  sleeping, 

Starts  from  its  couch  to  join  the  revelry 
Of  wanton  winds: — Land,  ho!  The  look-out  cries, 

Under  the  lee-bow,  whither  turn  all  eyes. 
C* 


6Z  ANSELMO. 

LXXX. 

To  gaze  on  the  horizon:  there  half-dozing, 

The  sky  and  ocean  the  strained  vision  sealeth: 

Full  soon  the  main,  like  a  huge  cloud  reposing 
On  evening's  verge,  the  vista  half  revealeth; 

The  darker  outline  of  the  land  disclosing — • 
No  longer  the  bold  mountain  tops  concealeth: 

Anon,  with  joy,  the  quickened  eye  beholdeth 

Granada's  beauties,  as  the  mist  unfoldeth. 

LXXXI. 
Behold  the  Isthmus!  The  unbroken  band 

Of  union  by  which  Continents  abided: 
Is  this  indeed  the  far-famed  flowery  land, 

Which  for  unnumberered  ages  hath  divided 
Two  mighty  Oceans?  On  whose  pearly  strand, 

Their  waves  have  broken,  but  to  be  derided? 
Darien!  All  eyes  behold  thee  with  much  wonder; 
How  hast  thou  kept  those  proud  old  Oceans  under  ! 

LXXXII. 
Land  of  the  palm-grove:  rich,  voluptuous  land, 

Forever  teeming  with  fruits  rare  and  mellow; 
Thou  hast  not  been  defiled  by  labor's  hand; 

Art  hath  not  made  thy  blushing  bowers  sallow; 
No  ruthless  axe  laid  low  thy  forests  grand, 

Nor  ploughshare  left  thy  virgin  soil  fallow: 
Spontaneously  and  in  abundant  measure, 
Thou  pourest  forth  thy  stores  for  food  and  pleasure. 


ANSELMO.  33 

LXXXIII. 

There  San  Lorenzo,  with  war's  thunders  laden, 
High  on  a  rock  reposeth  midst  fair  bowers: 

Here,  gliding  Chagres,  evermore  arrayed  in 
The  richest  garlands  of  perennial  flowers, 

Bears  on  her  bosom,  like  a  mountain  maiden, 
Bi-ocean  mists  dissolving  in  soft  showers, 

From  summits  'neath  which  Gorgona  reposeth, 

And  cliffs  where  Cruces  the  Wes-t  Sea  discloseth. 


END  OF  CANTO  I. 


ANSELMO. 


CANTO     SECOND. 

i. 
The  pride  of  Darien  is  Panama, 

A  city  built  of  yore  by  brave  Castilians, 
With  massive  walls  and  towers,  for  peace  or  war, 

At  an  expense  of  unrecorded  millions; 
A  waste  of  gold,  but  right  enough,  so  far, 

For  they  had  fleeced  the  natives  of  their  billions; 
They  are  withal  a  very  pious  people, 
For  every  house  surmounts  a  cross,  or  steeple. 

n. 
Brave  birds  bereft  of  freedom  and  of  beauty, 

Nature's  own  sentinels  of  time  and  love, 
Call  forth  those  saints  to  pleasure,  prayer  and  booty, 

So,  throng  the  pit  below,  the  throne  above; 
And  there  is  one  which  doeth  constant  duty 

For  Church  and  State,  more  gentle  than  the  dove, 
Sad,  silent,  solemn,  smelling  for  his  gizzard, 
Dark  angel  of  the  city,  Turkey  Buzzard. 


ANSELMO.  35 

III. 
This  city  occupies  a  rock  plaza, 

An  old  resort  of  Buccaneers  for  playing 
Brag;  for  whose  invention  Nebuchadnezzar, 

Was  doomed  to  play  the  ox,  and  practice  praying; 
A  better  fate  than  had  his  son,  Beltshazzar, 

Who  lost  his  crown,  because  his  guests,  obeying 
The  royal  mandate,  quaffed  their  rosy  wine, 
In  goblets  pillaged  from  Jehovah's 'shrine. 

IV. 

Here  commerce  is  content  with  narrow  streets, 
By  overhanging  balconies  half-shaded  j 

No  ponderous  cars  unlade  her  freighted  fleets, 
No  labor-saving  powers  are  here  paraded 

Her  gold  and  silver,  corn  and  wine,  and  meats, 
Go  meekly  forth  on  trains  of  mules,  jaded, 

Wind-broken,  spavined,  by  turns  restive,  antic, 

To  the  interior  towns  and  the  Atlantic. 

v. 
Beyond  the  gates  of  Panama,  reposing, 

Are  blooming  gardens  and  perennial  groves; 
Flowerets  and  fountains  modestly  disclosing 

Their  varied  charms  arid  breathing  mutual  loves; 
Blossoms  exuding  balmy  odors — dozing — • 

Dream,  while  the  fluttering  humbird  sips  and  roves; 
These  lull  the  Wanderer's  thoughts  to  pleasant  themes, 
And  bid  his  childhood  home  return  in  dreams. 


36  A  N  S  E  L  M  O  . 

VI. 

The  half-blown  flowers  shed  richer  fragrance  round; 

The  streamlet  lingers  in  the  shadowy  brake; 
The  bubbling  spring  forgets  its  murmuring  sound, 

And  zephyrs  languish  on  the  slumbering  lake; 
The  herds  recline  upon  the  rising  ground; 

The  birds  sigh  to  each  other — half-awake; 
Half  sleeping  in  the  dreamy  twilight  bloom, 
Till  all  is  hushed  in  eve's  enchanting  gloom. 

VII. 

Charmed  with  the  scene,  ANSELMO  lingered  here, 
Till  moonbeams,  gleaming  through  the  foliage, 

In  softly  varying  shadows,  did  appear, 
Like  the  loved  idol  of  his  pilgrimage: 

Was  the  form  fancy?     Real  the  truant  tear, 
Kindly  refractive  medium  to  assuage, 

By  fond  illusions  his  unsolaced  grief, 

Which  sought  no  sympathy,  asked  no  relief. 

VIII. 

And  yet,  it  may  not  have  been  fancy,  all — 
This  land  was  ISABELLA'S  childhood  home; 

That  sunnier  clime,  o'er  which,  in  dreams  a  pall, 
Like  cloudlets  breaking  o'er  a  luminous  dome, 

Or,  waiving  mist  above  a  water-fall, 

Seemed  hanging  ever;  hither  had  she  come, 

Obedient  to  the  mandates  of  her  sire, 

To  garner  honors  sought  not  with  desire. 


ANSELMO.  37 

IX. 
Here  she  had  found  position,  wealth  and  name; 

The  goal  and  glory  of  her  sainted  sire, 
Who  scarcely  had  resumed  his  ancient  fame, 

Ere,  in  his  daughter's  arms,  he  did  expire: 
Alone,  earth's  joys  and  pride  were  poor  and  tame ; 

They  could  not  in  her  striken  heart  inspire 
That  deep,  abiding  bliss  which  those  inherit, 
Whose  cherished  longings  soothe  the  wounded  spirit. 

x. 

Here  in  the  cloister's  consecrated  shade, 
Away  from  the  disturbing  themes  of  earth, 

Where  fashion's  froward  throngs  dare  not  invade, 
Nor  come  distinctive  revelry  and  mirth, 

Her  soul  a  pious  offering  she  made, 

Renounced  the  world,  her  name,  and  pride  of  birth ; 

With  vestal  virgins  counted  all  things  dross — 

She  found  the  consolations  of  the  Cross. 

XI. 

Her  heart  was  now  a  fountain  of  repose, 

Whose  pure  depths  shadowed  forth  the  beautiful 

Of  earth  and  heaven:  her  early  love  and  woes, 
Commingling,  merged;  while  in  the  dutiful, 

Her  spirit  seemed  absorbed;  divinely  flows 
The  well  of  living  waters,  deep  and  full, 

Free  from  the  taint  of  earth,  its  pride,  its  strife, 

Springing  joyous  up  to  everlasting  life. 


38  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XII. 
Charmed  with  this  blest,  religious  quietude, 

Time  glided  peacefully  without  alarm; 
The  softened  scenery  of  the  solitude, 

Gave  her  fair  features  a  more  heavenly  charm; 
She  passed  serenely  into  womanhood — 

She  thought  no  evil,  so  she  feared  no  harm: 
Her  struggle  with  the  world  long  since  had  ended- 
ANSELMO'S  image  with  the  Savior's  blended. 

XIII. 

A  mother  may  forget  her  darling  boy, 
A  wife  forget  the  husband  of  her  youth, 

But  the  blest  image,  drawn  with  guileless  joy, 
Of  girl-hood's  first  love,  like  eternal  truth, 

Fades  not:  absent  her  mind  may  find  employ 
In  sacred  rites,  but  her  fond  heart,  forsooth, 

Throbbeth  in  worship  as  if  he  were  near, 

And  would  with  rapture  leap  should  he  appear. 

XIV. 

In  day-dreams  oft,  and  visions  of  the  night, 
There  comes  a  music  fraught  with  sweet  repose, 

Which  to  the  yearning  spirit  gives  delight, 
As  to  the  dew  upon  the  opening  rose, 

When  rifting  fragrance  lets  in  hallowed  light, 
And  in  its  exhalation  doth  disclose 

Those  beauties  which  withstand  the  ardent  spell 

Of  noontide  glow — so  came  to  ISABEL 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  39 

XV. 

The  voice  of  one  whose  name  she  did  repeat 
At  matins  and  at  vespers,  quite  as  oft 

As  to  a  sacred  vestal  it  were  meet, 
In  rich  melodious  intonations,  soft 

And  low  as  fairy  foot-falls  in  retreat; 
Then  rose  a  radiant  halo,  as  aloft, 

A  luminous  cloudlet  heralding  a  storm, 

Revealing  to  her  gaze  ANSELMO'S  form. 

XVI. 

Oh,  vision  blest!     In  meditations  sweet, 
She  mused  along  the  windings  of  the  shore ; 

A  dove  from  seaward  fluttered  at  her  feet, 
On  its  fair  neck  a  golden  chain  it  wore, 

Whence,  delicately  set,  with  art  replete, 
In  diamonds,  hung  ANSELMO'S  minature; 

She  kissed  the  weary  wanderer  to  her  breast, 

Where  saints  might  slumber,  angels  sink  to  rest; 

XVII. 

More  white  and  warm,  more  soft  than  eider-down, 
Purer  than  sunbeams  chastened  through  eclipse, 

The  carrier  nestled  gently,  deeply  down 
Twixt  lily  pillows  with  carnation  tips; — 

Fit  throne  to  wake  the  envy  of  a  crown, 
Dreamily  sipping  opiates  from  her  lips; 

Awhile  in  rest — and  then,  as  if  inspired, 

It  breathed  one  note  of  joyance  and  expired. 


40  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XVIII. 

The  moon  now  sinks  behind  yon  hill  forlorn, 
Whose  bold  outline  falls  dimly  on  the  sight; 

The  fleeting  smiles  of  the  awakening  morn 

Scarce  tinge  the  silvery  sheen  of  starry  night; 

Love's  lilies  fade  when  passion's  blush  is  born, 
So  fadeth  now  the  retinue  of  night: 

Ray  fuseth  ray,  and  gleam  suifuseth  gleam, 

Till  dawn's  soft  twilight  reigns  o'er  all  supreme. 

XIX. 

Day,  like  a  youth  of  tireless  energy, 

Riseth  up  from  the  banquet  halls  of  Night; 

Jocund  with  joy,  refreshed  with  revelry, 

Shakes  from  his  broad  brow  looming  into  light, 

The  wreath  of  cloud-rifts,  which,  with  exstacy 
The  goddess  Storm  had  decked  him  for  his  flight ; 

Earthward  he  glanceth  a  full  quickening  ray — 

Dim  twilight  disappears  and  all  is  gray; 

xx. 
Gray  as  yon  graveyard  walls,  with  cells  so  narrow, 

Each  can  admit  one  shrouded  tenant  only; 
There  the  ancestors'  bones  scarce  yield  their  marrow, 

Before  the  heir  usurps  the  place,  so  lonely, 
Dark,  putrid,  reeking — vile  enough  to  harrow 

The  soul  of  any  being,  save  man  only; 
Out  goes  the  Father's  carcase,  scarce  half-rotten, 
To  make  room  for  the  Son,  long  since  forgotten. 


ANSELMO.  *i 

XXI. 

This  is  a  sort  of  special  abdication, 

Not  of  a  throne,  but  of  a  marble  palace; 

A  gravely  kind  of  pious  abnegation, 

Which  might  atone  for  much  paternal  malice; 

The  index  of  a  passing  generation,  [chalice; 

Whose  lips  no  more  shall  touch  the  wine-crowned 

Whose  voice  no  more  shall  cheer  the  festive  board 

In  praise  of  lovely  woman — and  the  sword. 

XXII. 

Where  now  is  he  who  skilfully  and  bold, 

Built  yonder  highway  grappling  fast  two  oceans  ? 

Now  broken,  rugged,  rocky,  rough  and  old, 
Inspiring  pilgrims  with  profane  emotions, 

Over  which  hath  passed,  of  silver  and  of  gold, 
Enough  to  rouse  a  world's  sublime  devotions; 

Sleepeth  he  there,  unknown  to  partial  fame, 

Without  a  tablet  and  without  a  name  ? 

XXIII. 

And  where  is  he  who  built  yon  city  walls, 

Combining  science,  beauty,  strength  and  skill? 

Whose  lofty  towers,  and  broad  and  spacious  halls, 
And  spires  with  symbols  of  peace  and  good  will; 

Designs,  the  missing  draughtsman  oft  recalls; 
Structures  survive  the  bold  constructive  will: 

The  still  corroding  power  of  Time  appals 

The  bravest  hearts — even  Rome  in  ruin  falls. 


42  AttSELMO. 

XXIV. 

From  Art,  and  her  proud  monuments,  away 
We  turn,  to  gaze  on  Nature's  lovelier  face: 

And  while  up  yonder  mountain-paths  we  stray, 
With  light  heart  and  firm  footstep,  let  us  trace 

The  everlasting  hills — the  beauteous  Bay — • 
Expanding  with  sweet  majesty  and  grace; — 

Her  bosom  swelling  with  divine  emotion, 

To  join  the  solemn  matins  of  the  Ocean. 

xxv. 
Cerro  de  Ancon !  On  thy  brow  of  pride 

Effulgent  with  the  smiles  of  glowing  Day 
Bloometh  the  ruddy  Morn — a  blushing  bride — 

Uprising,  joyful,  from  the  snowy  spray; 
Her  rosy  fingers  gently  put  aside 

The  fleecy  folds  of  gorgeous  drapery, 
With  which  the  Tropics  robe  the  Orient  portals, 
Whence  comes  the  Day-good — brightest  of  immortals. 

XXVI. 

The  Sun  looks  forth  from  Ocean!  Glorious  Sun! 

Exhaustless  source  of  rich  and  pure  delights: 
To  hymn  thy  praises,  countless  Planers  run 

Their  endless  rounds  of  glory!  Father  of  lights! 
Beauty  is  thine!  And  Life!  And  Love!  Triune: 

Unchangeable:  invariable:  the  heights 
Which  bear  aloft  the  everlasting  throne 
Are  not  more  firm  than  is  thy  power  alone. 


ANSELMO.  43 

XXVII. 

Hail!  glorious  Bridegroom  of  the  Universe; 

Magnificent  in  all  thy  goings  forth; 
Earth's  renovator  from  the  primal  curse; 

Thine  Eunuchs  are,  the  East,  West  South  and  North: 
To  whom  the  Twelve  continually  rehearse, 

In  brilliant  signs  the  Zodiac  of  thy  worth! 
When  with  the  Morning  Stars  thou  didst  rejoice, 
Eternity  resounded  with  thy  voice. 

XXVIII. 

A  slumbering  world  awakes  to  greet  thee  now: 
Earth,  from  the  mystical  abyss  of  Night, 

Looms  gayly  forth,  like  some  tall,  gallant  prow — 
Grace  in  her  motion;  in  her  face  delight; 

Hope,  joy  and  love  illume  her  noble  brow ; 

Her  emerald  robes  with  diamond  dew-drops  bright; 

Sweep  lightly  o'er  her  high  diurnal  course, 

And  raptly  sing  thine  all-attractive  force. 

XXIX. 

Now  the  Pacific  leads  the  choir  alone: 

Mountains  in  chorus  bow  their  reverend  heads; 

The  palm-crowned  hills  waft  incense  to  thy  throne; 
Rivers  glide  joyful  o'er  their  golden  beds : 

Toboga,  'mid  green  isles — a  fairy  zone — 

Daily  thy  morn-beams  bride-like  blushing  weds: 

And  fair  Losaria,  glittering  with  the  hues 

Of  brilliant  birds,  thy  morning  praise  renews.  I 
D* 


M  ANSELMO. 

XXX. 

From  sleep  yon  city  starts  with  new  life  given ; 

Luxuriant  vales  with  fragrant  bliss  opprest, 
And  flowers  excelling  the  rich  hues  of  heaven 

Spring,  childlike,  forth  to  thy  paternal  breast; 
And  yon  dark  forest,  by  fierce  Art  unriven, 

In  deep  and  solemn  tones  proclaims  thee  blest ! — 
Viego  Panama!  Ruin's  hoary  son! 
Even  thou  dost  smiling  greet  the  rising  Sun! 

XXXI. 

But,  yonder  solitude  awakens  not; 

Thy  beams  light  not  the  shrouded  tenants  there; 
Of  earth  forgetful,  and  by  man  forgot, 

They  praise  not  thee,  nor  heed  thy  grand  career- 
But  thou  shalt  see  Death,  vanquished,  fly  that  spot: 

The  Dead  come  forth!  the  Master  re-appear! 
The  Temple  rise,  immortal  in  design; 
Praise  thou,  oh,  Sun,  the  Architect  Divine. 

XXXII. 

Here  might  one  linger  till  life's  sands  were  run, 
Alike  forgetful  of  Earth's  love  and  hate; 

But  wherefore  leave  a  chosen  task  undone  ? 

Why  should  the  Morning  on  the  Evening  wait  ? 

Up  and  pursue  thy  course,  like  yonder  sun; 

Work  is  the  charm  which  foils  the  shafts  of  fate; 

Though  faint,  press  on,  broken  shall  be  the  spell, 

ANSELMO,  which  still  shrouds  thy  ISABEL. 


ANSELMO.  45 

XXXIII. 

Descending-  from  DeAncon's  glowing  height, 
In  a  cool  grot,  o'erlooking  town  and  bay, 

He  saw  an  ancient  man,  whose  brow  of  light 
And  eye  of  love,  a  minstrel  might  portray, 

Who  bade  him  welcome  with  that  frank  delight, 
Which  from  a  stranger  takes  reserve  away: 

ANSELMO  sat  beneath  the  flowering  vine, 

And  shared  the  minstrel's  mellow  fruit  and  wine. 

xxxiv. 
They  soon  are  friends,  and  soon  the  converse  grows 

To  themes  of  love,  so  genial  to  all  poets: 
They  drink,  and  tell  the  tales  which  each  best  knows, 

And  what's  untold,  the  other  longs  to  know  it; 
At  length  the  native  minstrel's  heart  o'erflows, 

He  doth  confess  himself  Don  Carlos'  Poet ; 
To  please  his  guest,  with  mingled  grief  and  pleasure, 
He  sings  his  Patron — thus  the  song  and  measure: 

xxxv. 
Hispania,  Father-land  of  Panama, 

By  home-bred  discord  long  was  rent  asunder; 
Peace  fled  her  cheerful  vales,  and  civil  war,       [der — 

Wrapt  in  dark,  gory  robes  and  crowned  with  thun- 
Like  avalanches  rushing  from  afar — 

Her  iron  heels  crushed  men  and  cities  under 
Vast  smouldering  heaps  of  undistinguished  ruin, 
Ere  the  Panamians  knew  the  storm  was  brewing. 

UNIVERSITY 


46  ANSELMO. 

XXXVI. 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  in  palace,  cot  and  tower, 

From  Murcia's  vale  to  Malladetta's  summit, 
From  dreamy  dawn  to  drowsy  midnight  hour, 

Chiefs  raised  the  war-cry,  warriors  did  hum  it; 
Of  Spain's  proud  chivalry  went  forth  the  flower, 

To  fire  and  thrust  and  cut,  to  fife  and  drum  it: 
Being  without  foreign  foes,  but  of  game  mother, 
With  pious  zeal  each  good  Don  fought  his  brother. 

XXXVII. 

Don  Carlos  heard  these  tidings  with  a  presage 
Of  sorrow,  like  a  shadow  undefinable 

Flitting  'thwart  his  brow;  flashes  of  fear  and  rage, 
To  which  his  heart  a  moment  seemed  inclinable; 

Brave  Saul,  the  Witch  of  Endor  did  engage, 
To  try  for  him  her  arts  and  skill  divinable: 

Heroes  who  dare  War's  iron-bolted  thunder, 

To  a  small  spirit-voice  oft  knock  under. 

XXXVIII. 

The  noble  Don  awhile  did  hesitate 

What  course  events  demanded  to  be  taken; 

f  > 

And  though  opprest  by  some  dim  shade  of  fate, 
His  towering  soul  vile  fear  had  never  shaken; 

He  gave  in  his  adhesion  to  the  State, 
Whose  glory  his  ancestry  had  partaken: 

Thus,  love-paternal  bowed  to  royalty, 

The  purest  pledge  of  spotless  loyalty. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  47 

XXXIX. 

His  patriot  spirit  glowed  with  martial  fire; 

He  fought  again  the  fields  he  won  of  yore ; 
Ambition  might  not  bolder  hopes  inspire, 

Nor  haughty  fame  on  loftier  pinions  soar: 
Now  burning  with  an  impulse  deeper,  higher, 

The  crown  to  his  liege  sovereign  to  restore; 
Or,  midst  the  grape  and  canister's  dead  rattle, 
Fall  like  a  hero  foremost  in  the  battle. 

XL. 
Once,  when  red  slaughter  drunk  with  blood,  had  driven 

The  carnage  on  from  fields  to  walls  and  towers — 
War's  thunder-bolts  the  massive  gates  had  riven, 

And  deluged  hearths  and  homes  in  sanguine  showers* 
Don  Carlos  saved — was  it  the  will  of  Heaven? — 

An  orphan  from  the  ruin  which  devours 
Wife,  child  and  sire — as  his  own  son  did  rear  him, 
And  for  the  sacred  mitre  did  prepare  him. 

XLI. 
The  Don's  chief  care,  such  as  a  father  feeleth, 

Was  for  the  welfare  of  his  fledgling  dove ; 
How  great  the  confidence  when  doubt  ne'er  stealeth 

In,  as  we  yield  the  treasures  of  our  love, 
To  whom  even  gratitude  and  honor  sealeth 

Our  friend  below,  our  guide  to  joys  above  ? 
He  made  Juan  guardian  of  his  house  and  daughter; 
And  left  his  home  for  distant  fields  of  slaughter. 


48  ANSELMO. 

XLII. 
The  Dona  Julia  was  the  holiest  treasure, 

Her  princely,  widowed  father  had  on  earth; 
He  celebrated  with  unbounded  measure, 

The  bright  May-day  which  gave  his  daughter  birth. 
To  her  devoted  all  his  hours  of  leisure, 

And  found  in  her  a  child  of  peerless  worth ; 
All  praised  her  as  the  beau-ideal  of  beauty; 
Her  life  was  the  embodiment  of  duty. 

XLIII. 
Scarce  thirteen  summers,  with  unwonted  fleetness, 

Had  wafted  her  through  vales  of  thornless  roses; 
Infused  her  ruby  lips  with  tropic  sweetness, 

Balmy  as  the  bosom  on  which  Love  reposes; 
Her  eyes  revealed  a  soul  of  perfect  meetriess, 

For  spirits  who  inhabit  where  day  closes 
Its  lingering,  hallowed  glance  on  things  terrestrial, 
And  melts  away  in  starry  light  celestial. 

XLIV. 
She  loved  the  beautiful:  the  clouds  and  showers; 

The  early  beam,  whose  radiant  kiss  unsealeth 
The  eye  of  morn;  those  richly-fragrant  bowers 

Where  noon-tide's  glow  a  chastened  gleam  revealeth ; 
Young  dew-drops  nestling  on  her  favorite  flowers; 

The  bow — which  Heaven's  promise  ever  sealeth, 
Zephyrs  sporting  with  the  pensive  shades  of  even, 
And  stars  dissolving  in  the  light  of  Heaven. 


ANSELMO.  49 

XLV. 

She  loved  the  beautiful:  the  grace  of  motion; 

The  tuneful  lightning  trilling  on  the  air; 
The  eagle  soaring  sunward  with  devotion; 

The  noble  form  of  manhood,  strong  and  fair; 
Diviner  woman — radiant  with  emotion, 

When  love  hath  plucked  from  passion  its  despair, 
Thought,  like  an  Angel,  on  the  brow  reclining, 
The  wonders  of  the  Universe  divining. 

LXVI. 
She  loved  the  beautiful:  not  merely  beauty 

Of  hue,  form,  motion;  thought,  high,  deep  and  broad; 
More  beautiful  to  her  the  path  of  duty, 

Where  Meekness,  Mercy,  Truth  divinely  trod; 
She  saw,  admired,  adored  the  moral  beauty 

Which  bindeth  Angels  to  the  throne  of  God ! 
More  beautiful,  more  hallowed  the  emotion 
With  which  the  CROSS  inspired  her  devotion! 

XLVII. 
The  sootheful  warmth  of  passion's  virgin  kiss ; 

The  blossom  breathing  fragrance  to  the  dove; 
The  dream  foreshadowing  joys  of  future  bliss; 

The  echo  murmuring  to  the  tone  of  love ; 
The  ray  uniting  heavenly  worlds  to  this ; 

The  gleam  transporting  earthly  thoughts  above; — 
These  join  all  kindred  souls  in  sweet  communion; 
These  Julia  cherished  in  life-giving  union. 


50  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XLTIII. 

Well  might  Bon  Carlos'  proud  and  lofty  spirit, 

Rejoice  with  all  a  father's  holiest  joy, 
In  this  fond  daughter,  whose  angel's  merit, 

Was  far  too  pure  a  source  of  bliss  to  cloy; — 
His  sole  blest  gift  of  Heaven  to  inherit 

Name,  virtues,  glories,  Time  might  scarce  destroy: 
The  breath  polluting  so  divine  a  blossom, 
More  rots  itself  than  rends  a  father's  bosom. 

XLIX. 
The  name  of  Guardian  implieth  duty; 

And  duty  joineth  hands  with  obligation; 
Both  may  prove  true  against  mere  sordid  booty, 

And  even  turn  the  edge  of  gratification; 
But  flesh  and  blood  ne'er  yet  resisted  beauty, 

However  smooth  the  age,  or  rude  the  nation; 
It  ne'er  was  in  the  power  of  nomenclature, 
To  change  the  current  of  frail  human  nature. 

L. 

Saint,  guardian — bishop,  words  of  magic  power, 
As  ever  made  poor  mortals  lay  the  lash  on — 

Are  far  less  potent  than  an  April  shewer 

To  quench  the  fervid  flames  of  youthful  passion ; 

Vain  words  to  sap  the  old  Adamic  tower- 
In  spite  of  them,  young  blood  will  ever  dash  on 

Its  fiery  course,  resistless  as  the  ocean, 

While  every  billow  breaks  with  soft  emotion. 


ANSELMO.  51 

LI. 
That  heaven  hath  its  favorites  none  can  doubt, 

And  doth  allow  to  some,  what  it  denies 
Unto  the  race;  the  general  rule  found  out; 

As  this — "The  Soul  that  sinneth  surely  dies," 
Implies  exceptions:  hence  the  elect  devout 

May  very  many  naughty  things  devise: 
Like  Jacob,  when  among  his  Uncle's  kye, 
Placed  hazel-rods  to  charm  their  lustful  eye. 

LII. 
So  David,  the  man  after  God's  own  heart; 

Who  dared  Goliah  forth  to  mortal  strife; 
Who  swept  the  tuneful  lyre  with  heavenly  art; 

Whose  sacred  numbers  breathed  eternal  life, 
And  still  to  saints  doth  joys  divine  impart: — 

This  godly  prince  seduced  Uria's  wife, 
Then  made  him  drunk  and  slew  him — laid  the  offense 
On  the  devouring  sword  and — Providence. 

LIII. 
Look  not  upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red; 

When  it  doth  sparkle  like  a  living  thing; 
For  when  it  cheers  the  heart  and  warms  the  head, 

It  biteth  like  a  serpent;  and  its  sting 
Is  like  the  adder's : — thus,  with  pious  dread, 

Did  Solomon  unto  his  neighbors  sing; 
Then  called  a  brand  of  father  Noah's  time, 

And  drank  nine  healths  to  dusky  Ashtorime. 
E 


52  ANSELMO. 

LIV. 
Solomon  was  an  exception  to  all  rules; 

Rich,  learned,  pious,  powerful  and  wise; 
He  said  much  in  his  proverbs  about  fools, 

Which  yet  in  preaching  wisdom  vast  implies ; 
A  generous  man ;   no  tyro  of  the  schools ; 

In  passion's  contests  always  won  the  prize: 
To  all  the  sex,  devoutly  did  impart, 
In  tender  tones,  the  gushings  of  his  heart. 

LV. 
Woman  was  to  him  the  poetry  of  life; 

The  soul  subduing  eloquence  of  earth; 
And  whether  it  was  concubine  or  wife, 

Her  winsome  smile  afforded  equal  mirth. 
No  creed,  no  color,  gave  him  cause  for  strife ; 

He  loved  the  sex  for  their  intrinsic  worth: 
Thus,  one  rule  hath  philosopher  and  lover — 
Woman  is  woman  all  the  wide-world  over. 

LVI. 
Yet,  saint-like,  he  did  piously  condemn 

Adultery,  and  such  like  naughty  things, 
In  scathing  tirades  which  might  overwhelm 

A  harpy  crew,  despite  their  loathsome  wings; 
In  Hebrew  ribaldry  and  holy  phlegm, 

Abused  the  sex,  the  chief  delight  of  kings — 
A  fair  translation  of  which  to  repeat, 
Would  make  this  page  to  modest  eyes  unmeet. 


ANSELMO.  53 

LVII. 

Nor  Jew  alone,  but  his  more  modern  brother, 

The  Christian — grinds  the  face  of  all  God's  poor; 

He  sells  a  pious  child,  a  godly  mother, 
Just  as  a  Pagan  selleth  a  wild  boar; 

He  loves  this  world,  belie  veth  in  the  other; 
Prays  for  the  slave,  and  driveth  from  his  door 

The  beggared  orphans  of  his  kith  and  kin, 

As  if  to  aid  white  sufferers  were  a  sin. 

LVIII. 
Thus,  every  man  is  right  in  his  own  eyes ; 

A  yielding  faith  is  a  most  blessed  thing; 
He  who  for  Heaven  on  his  good  works  relies, 

Had  better  when  he  is  a  dying,  cling 
To  his  old  hope,  as  at  the  sacrifice, 

A  bullock  doth  unto  the  butcher's  ring. 
Like  Juan,  the  saints  enjoy  Earth's  pleasures  more 
Than  promised  joys  on  Heaven's  distant  shore. 

LIX. 
The  Bishop-Guardian  was  so  young  and  gentle; 

So  blandly  pious  and  so  meekly  handsome ; 
His  manners,  features,  glance  so  sentimental, 

A  maiden's  heart  might  innocently  dance  some 
In  his  sweet  smile — yet  find  it  detrimental; 

If  long  enjoyed,  demanding  ransom: 
But  ransom,  though  full,  fleet  and  disenthralling — 
Can  ne'er  erase  the  stain — for  guilt  is  galling. 


54  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LX. 
How  could  she  doubt  him  ?    He,  who  oft  had  shriven 

The  father,  on  whose  love  and  worth  she  doted: 
Could  he  prove  false  to  whom  she  had  been  given, 

To  teach  her  holy  themes  of  the  devoted  ? 
To  guide  her  in  the  narrow  path  to  Heaven  ? 

She  did  not  dream  a  Bishop  so  much  noted 
For  self-denying  zeal  in  things  celestial, 
Drank  daily  deeper  draughts  from  springs  terrestrial 

LXI. 
Juan  was  a  man  of  polished  education; 

Highly  accomplished  for  a  lady's  tutor; 
Classic  in  composition  and  translation; 

But  rather  warm  and  gallant  to  be  neuter, 
When  he  might  choose  t'wixt  nought  and  recreation ; 

He  proved  himself  a  charming  teacher-suitor; 
Giving  at  noon-tide,  vespers,  dewy-matin, 
Alternate  lessons  of  Greek,  Love  and  Latin. 

LXII. 
A  sacerdotal  devotee  of  pleasure ; 

His  diocesan  duties  were  regarded, 
As  better  suited  for  the  sacred  leisure, 

Of  prayerful  priests,  who  seek  to  be  rewarded 
With  spirit-bliss,  as  free  from  sense  as  measure; 

But  for  himself,  he  thought  to  be  retarded 
In  earthly  joys  like  those  which  grace  a  bridal, 
Was  spurning  heaven's  gifts  by  being  suicidal. 


ANSELMO.  55 

LXIII. 

Fruits  fairest,  smoothest,  mellowest  and  roundest, 
He  could  enjoy  in  all  sorts  of  weather; 

Of  theologian  Sages  he  was  soundest, 
His  theory  and  practice  went  together; 

Philosophy,  said  he,  is  the  profoundest, 
Which  freeth  nature  from  all  legal  tether: 

Fastings  for  Monks;  for  Bishops  sumptuous  dinners; 

Free  grace  for  Saints;  the  Law  for  Jews  and  sinners. 

LXIV. 
'Tis  said,  Priests  prate  of  sin  with  holy  horror; 

Toward  common  sinners  show  but  little  lenience; 
Condemning  that  to-day,  which  on  the  morrow 

They  do  themselves,  nor  think  of  penitence : 
They  may  not  wed,  though  oft,  'tis  said,  they  borrow 

A  layman's  spouse,  as  matter  of  convenience; 
Imparting  thus  a  sanctifying  flavor; 
To  keep  the  common  salt  from  losing  savor. 

LXV. 

This  may  be  so:  the  Priesthood  are  but  mortal; 

And  mortals  are  of  compounds  the  most  curious : 
Creatures  in  whom  dame  nature  queerly  wrought  all 

Virtues  and  vices,  mildest  and  most  furious: 
Strange  clouds  of  darkness  tinged  with  light  immortal; 

Genuine  in  evil;  in  all  goodness  spurious: 
Crosier,  nor  cowl,  nor  coat  of  rigid  Quaker, 
Can  curb  the  passions  given  by  our  Maker. 


56  ANSELMO. 

LXVI. 
Juan  was  much  like  his  prototype  of  old, 

Who  when  he  heard,  in  Eden  there  did  dwell, 
A  lovely  being  of  diviner  mould, 

Whose  sunny  smile  and  laughing  eyes  could  tell 
A  tale  of  wondrous  love ;  whose  charms  did  hold 

Even  angels  by  a  supernatural  spell; — 
Whose  merry  laughter  floating  on  the  wind, 
The  heart  enchanted  and  enrapt  the  mind: — 

LXVII. 
His  gallant  spirit  caught  the  genial  flame ; 

His  heart  with  passion's  ardor  beat  once  more; 
Up  to  our  earthly  paradise  he  came, — 

Milton  hath  told  us  how  he  left  the  shore 
Of  Erebus:  in  strangely  happy  frame 

He  gazed  on  Eve,  and  gazing  did  adore; 
Adoring  loved,  and  loving  raved  away, 
Like  gay  Lotharios  who  on  virtue  prey. 

LXVIII. 
That  fruit  is  dangerous,  who  can  disbelieve? 

Though  how,  or  wherefore,  few  may  understand: 
Sathanus  knew  it  when  he  tempted  Eve, 

Saying,  as  he  placed  the  apple  in  her  hand, 
Eat;  be  like  God,  and  never  die!  Believe; 

Eatl  be  immortal  in  thy  beauty;  and, 
Their  hands  touched;  did  their  lips?  Woman's  first  sigh 
Doth  often  seal  her  future  destiny. 


ANSELMO.  57 

LXIX. 
The  hand  is  a  machine  of  wondrous  power ; 

It  sweepeth  ancient  temples  from  the  earth; 
Where  yawns  the  abyss,  it  rears  the  stately  tower; 

To  solitudes  it  giveth  cities  birth : 
It  is  surcharged  with  strange  electric  power, 

Which  thrilleth  woman's  heart  with  pleasant  mirth: 
Hand  toucheth  hand,  the  heart  vibrateth  free; 
All  love,  but  who  can  solve  the  mystery  ? 

LXX. 
Ripe  lips  are  love's  galvanic  battery — 

As  they  approach  the  heavenly  sparks  appear; 
Till  with  their  touch,  the  quick  intensity 

Of  flame  dissolves  the  heart  into  a  tear. 
Immortal  kisses!  Heavenly  ecstacy! 

This  was  the  youthful  Bishop's  daily  prayer — 
Though  Heaven  deny  me  every  other  pleasure, 
Let  me  forever  feel  their  rnagic  pressure. 

LXXI. 
Man  plucks  the  blooming  rose  with  grateful  pleasure, 

And  breathes  its  fragrance  when  its  beauty  fadeth; 
But  casts  away,  as  counterfeited  treasure, 

The  flowers  immortal  which  his  lust  degradeth: 
Illicit  joy  hath  neither  shame  nor  measure, 

In  blasted  hopes  and  broken  hearts  it  tradeth; 
Forever  planting  thorns,  where  bloometh  roses; 
Its  dreams  are  deepest  where  foul  death  reposes. 


58  ANSELMO. 

LXXII. 

The  ills  of  life  crowd  fast  upon  each  other; 

Woe  presseth  hard  upon  the  steps  of  sadness: 
The  hour  which  crowned  Julia  as  a  mother, 

Forever  sealed  to  her  the  fount  of  gladness: 
He  who  in  trust  should  have  excelled  a  brother, 

Consigned  her  to  cells  of  corroding  madness: 
To  kill,  and  not  be  tyrant,  or  magician, 
Power  needs  but  to  employ  a  bland  physician. 

LXXIII. 
Such  was  the  Quadroon  Bolus,  who  delighted 

In  guise  of  friendship,  to  inflict  oppression; 
To  work  dark  deeds  against  his  honor  plighted; 

His  blandest  smiles  were  falsehoods  in  succession: 
His  words  infection  which  fair  virtue  blighted; — 

A  titled  member  of  the  grave  profession, 
Who  make  their  art  subservient  to  their  passion, 
And  gloze  the  villany  time-honored  fashion. 

LXXIV. 
Such  was  the  one  to  whom  was  fitly  given 

The  genial  task  of  Julia's  full  destruction: 
He  bled — to  mend  a  heart  by  anguish  riven, 

And  smiling,  showed  it  Galen's  best  instruction; 
Blistered — to  cure  a  mind  to  madness  driven, 

And  aptly  proved  it  right  by  book  construction: 
Weak,  timid,  fallen,  thus  he  briefly  wrote, 
"Light  is  your  bane — darkness  your  antidote." 


ANSELMO.  59 

LXXV. 
Bright  rose  the  morn — the  patient  rose  in  gloom ; 

He  found  her  waiting  him  with  bandaged  eyes; 
He  smiled  with  pitiless  triumph  o'er  her  doom, 

And  with  low  voice  he  softly  bade  her  rise; 
Gently  he  led  her  to  her  living  tomb, 

Where  never  came  the  light  of  mellow  skies ; 
Kissed  her  a  fond  adieu:  his  work  was  done, 
Just  where  the  jailor  Kaznoe's  task  began. 

LXXVI. 
This  Kaznoe  was  of  obscure  foreign  birth; 

The  protege  of  a  dark  courtezan ; 
A  vile  creation  of  course,  filthy  earth; 

Odors  of  Africa  betrayed  the  man; 
His  only  pleasure  was  polluting  worth ; 

He  was  chief  panderer  to  the  Bishop  Juan : 
A  braggart,  coward,  stealthy  in  his  blows; 
Alike  a  traitor  to  his  friends  and  foes. 

LXXVII. 
Don  Manuel's  parentage  was  deemed  uncertain; 

The  Bishop  Juan  first  saw  the  pretty  child 
In  the  Cathedral,  near  the  silver-curtain 

Which  veiled  the  Virgin,  whose  fine  charms  beguiled 
Him  many  an  hour,  from  duties  which  did  pertain 

To  heavenly  things ;  for  he  believed  she  smiled, 
Whene'er  he  knelt  before  her:  to  Faith  is  given, 
The  power  to  change  the  love  of  Earth  to  Heaven. 


60  ANSELMO. 

LXXVIII. 

He  should  have  recognized  the  little  stranger 
At  the  first  glance:  for  in  its  tiny  features, 

Blended  his  own  so  fully,  there  was  danger, 
If  any  of  the  world's  inquisitive  creatures 

Should  see  its  face,  they  would  not  seek  a  manger 
To  find  its  father:  on  the  tropic  sea-shores, 

Sinners  and  saints,  and  priests  and  virgins  bathing, 

Avoid  the  heats  of  purgatorial  scathing. 

LXXIX. 
The  holy  man  was  shocked  to  find  a  new  born 

Babe,  sleeping  near  the  altar  of  the  Dove; 
But  soon  his  heart,  with  strange  emotions  torn, 

Leap't  toward  the  infant  with  paternal  love  1 
"A  Pope  in  embryo" — he  would  have  sworn, 

But  as  he  spoke,  a  whisper  from  above 
Said,  sprinkle  the  dear  child  with  holy  water — 
Devote  it  to  the  Church  as  her  own — Daughter. 

LXXX. 
Juan's  heart  sank  fast  below  the  range  of  zero; 

His  priestly  spirit  rose  divinely  high; 
And  glancing  upward,  amiably  as  Nero 

When  fiddling  over  Rome,  his  ear  and  eye 
Caught  a  soft  foot-fall  moving  to  and  fro, 

And  a  fair  vestal  figure  drawing  nigh; 
The  step,  the  form,  the  hour  he  knew  full  well, 
Proclaimed  the  Lady  Abbess,  Rosabel. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  O 

LXXXI. 
Surprised,  but  not  confused,  devoutly  kneeling, 

Juan  held  the  infant  in  his  arms,  and  prayed ; 
Most  holy  Virgin!  Inspire,  with  kind  feeling, 

The  Lady  Abbess  to  regard  this  maid; 
Found  quite  forlorn  beneath  this  sacred  ceiling; 

May  she,  thy  favorite,  with  thy  heavenly  aid, 
Bear  this  lone  one  to  happiness  divine, 
That,  like  herself,  it  grow  a  saint  of  thine. 

LXXXII. 
Fair  Rosabel  at  once  knelt  down  beside  him, 

Full  as  devoutly  as  the  holy  father ; 
Suspicious — that  she  knelt  there  to  deride  him, 

With  dark,  unkindly  glance  he  did  regard  her; 
But  wise  as  kind,  she  did  not  even  chide  him — 

She  bit  her  lips  to  keep  from  laughing  harder 
Than  it  is  meet  a  saint  should  at  the  altar — 
His  features  tinged  as  though  he  felt  a  halter. 

LXXXIII. 
Closing  his  eyes,  a  rueful  prayer  to  mutter, 

He  fancied  on  his  lips  a  humid  pressure; 
His  goodly  heart  began  to  beat  and  flutter, 

As  when  it  throbbed  the  first  impulse  of  pleasure; 
"  Divinest  1  "  Not  a  word  more  could  he  utter; 

Her  pleasantries  flowed  with  unwonted  measure: 
Oh,  woman  !  thy  devotion  is  a  fountain; 
Thy  love  an  ocean,  and  thy  wit  a  mountain. 


02  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

LXXXIV. 

Woman  is  a  book,  whose  fair,  mysterious  cover 
Displays  to  all  the  golden  clasp  of  love ; 

Revealing,  as  time  turns  its  pages  over, 
The  rose  and  lily,  olive-leaf  and  dove ; 

And,  yielding  to  the  pressure  of  the  lover, 
Imparteth  blissful  joys  unknown  above: 

Rich  incense,  grateful  as  a  rose-wrought  column, 

Involves  the  student  of  this  mystic  volume. 

LXXXV. 
A  book,  whose  pages  are  so  plainly  written, 

That  he  who  runs  may  read:  still  it  is  thought, 
That  many  an  old  fox  has  been  sorely  bitten, 

When  he  believed  young  maiden  geese  were  caught ; 
Only  a  noble  heart  can  be  love-smitten — 

A  woman's  heart  can  not  be  sold,  or  bought: 
She,  like  a  diamond,  there  writes  secrets  deeper, 
And  safer  keeps  them  than  a  conscience-keeper. 

LXXXVI. 
Love  hath  its  trophies  among  saints  and  sinners, 

Alike,  in  every  age,  in  every  clime; 
How  little  of  its  power  know  new  beginners ; 

Love  hath,  like  woman,  its  resistless  prime : 
Excelling  all  the  love  of  mutual  winners, 

Its  prayer,  hope,  fear,  its  sighing,  trysting-time : 
Love's  legal  joys  are  wife  and  sons  and  daughters; 
Life's  rarest  essence  is  love-stolen  waters. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  63 

LXXXVII. 

Occasion  makes  the  man,  man  makes  occasion; 

And  each  unmakes  the  other  quite  as  often; 
But  woman  hath  the  power  to  make  evasion 

Frank  as  the  truth,  with  gentler  warmth  to  soften; 
She  never  is  the  victim  of  occasion ; 

She  bends  events;  if  necessary,  coughs  when 
She  may  not  speak,  nor  hear  the  word,  which  spoken, 
Would  leave  her  fond  lord's  heart  quite  rudely  broken. 

LXXXVIII. 
Oh  love!  Thou  art  a  theorem  to  man; 

To  woman,  a  plain  problem  of  pure  pleasure; 
Which  oft  she  solves  to  prove  creation's  plan 

Both  wise  and  good,  of  boundless  zest  and  measure: 
To  her,  eternal  life  is  pleasure's  span; 

Glory,  the  gem  of  fond  desire's  treasure; 
She  jilts  a  lover  with  a  playful  nod, 
And,  smiling,  spurns  an  Angel,  or  a  God. 

LXXXIX. 
But  Man,  the  doating  dullard,  vainly  dreams, 

That  love  is  intellectual  and  divine; 
A  zone  of  lofty  thoughts  and  holy  themes  ; 

A  fadeless  wreath,  faith,  hope  and  virtue  twine; 
A  diamond,  glowing  with  celestial  gleam; 

Star  of  that  sphere  where  truth  forever  shines; 
Poor  victim  of  fond  woman's  fascination; 
He  knows  love  only  by — anticipation. 


64  ANSELMO. 

xc. 
A  sacred  Boudoir:   here  the  Virgin  smiles 

With  beatific  radiance  on  her  Son; 
There  the  young  noble  Nazarene  beguiles 

Mary  of  Magdala,  the  loveliest  one 
Of  lovely  women:  spotless,  undefiled, 

A  dove  descending  'mid  soft  cloudlets  shone: 
There  Lebanon — and  there  the  Temple  glows; 
Below,  blest  Kedron  murmuringly  flows. 

xci. 
A  clustering  vine  around  the  lattice  strays, 

Breathing  fragrance  over  Cana's  marriage  feast; 
Near  Sychar's  well,  a  shaded  fountain  plays; 

Sherbets,  wines,  fruits  invite  the  coyish  taste : 
Rich,  drowsy  perfumes  lade  the  visual  rays, 

And  sofa's  strewn  with  flowers  invite  to  rest; 
A  Bishop  analyzing  Sharon's  rose — 
An  Abbess  in  voluptuous  repose. 

XCII. 

The  chainless  hours  in  their  rapid  flight, 
Heed  not  the  mandates  of  plethoric  leisure; 

They  scorn  the  pride  and  power  of  wealth  and  might, 
Nor  linger  'midst  the  shades  of  luscious  pleasure; 

On  their  broad,  tireless  pinions  day  and  night, 
They  bear  away  the  unestimated  treasure 

Of  life's  exhausted  moments  to  their  Giver, 

To  be  returned  again — no  more,  forever. 


ANSELMO.  65 

XCIII. 

So  fled  the  hour,  the  dear  delicious  hour, 

Which  Bishop  Juan  for  many  a  month  had  given, 

As  a  restorative  of  moral  power, 

To  lady  Rosabel,  and  love  arid  Heaven: 

Refreshed,  as  dews  revive  the  drooping  flower, 
He  said,  ''My  heart  with  pitying  grace  is  riven." 

Rosabel  replied,  "Alas  !    poor  broken-hearted, 

Give  me  the  child:" — then  saint-like  she  departed. 

xciv. 
The  youthful  Nun  to  whom  the  Abbess  gave 

The  new-born  babe,  for  an  inheritance, 
Was  one  whose  beauty  smote,  but  ne'er  would  save 

Her  numerous  victims  from  love's  penitence; 
With  smile  and  kiss,  she  conquered  gay  and  grave, 

And  bound  them  with  her  soul-enchanting  glance: 
But  musing  once  along  a  flowery  dale, 
She,  slipping — soiled  her  ringlets — took  the  veil. 

xcv. 
Instead  of  fading  like  a  half-blown  flower, 

Whose  petals  perish  in  the  breath  of  even, 
As  may  have  been  designed;    a  gorgeous  bower, 

Warm  shade  and  mellow  sunbeams  could  have  given 
The  boy  no  attribute  of  lovely  power 

Which  clustered  not  around  him:  rainbows  riven 
By  angel  glances,  shed  not  richer  hues, 
Than  Time  o'er  his  fijie  features  did  diffuse. 


66  ANSELMO. 

XCVI. 

Time  is  a  fair,  fine,  fat  and  jovial  fellow, 
Forever  sporting  with  the  human  race; 

Full  oft  he  makes  the  blushing  maiden  sallow, 
Blends  rose  and  lily  in  some  younger  face; 

Ripens  the  dimpling  mouth  and  cheeks,  so  mellow, — 
They  melt  between  our  lips  like  love  and  grace: 

He  lavisheth  on  man  both  strength  and  beauty; — 

Then  stops  his  breath — as  a  mere  act  of  duty. 

XCVII. 

Fast  fly  the  moments  to  a  hungry  man, 

When  he  sits  down  to  eat  a  sumptuous  dinner; 

Quickly  the  hours  dwindle  to  a  span, 

When  playeth  deep  the  bold  and  reckless  winner; 

Long  nights  of  pleasure  scarcely  seem  began, 

When  dawn  breaks  in  on  a  young  rollicking  sinner: 

So  swiftly  fled  seven  golden  cycles  annual, 

To  fair  Anita  and  her  love — Don  Manuel. 

XCVIII. 

Her  love !  Anita  dearly  loved  the  child, 
Yes — she  adored  her  blue-eyed  beauteous  boy; 

She  loved  her  girl-boy  with  a  passionate,  wild, 
Consuming,  deep  and  overwhelming  joy: 

His  presence  all  the  ills  of  life  beguiled; 
His  absence  all  life's  blisses  did  destroy: 

He  was  to  her,  son,  daughter,  sister,  brother — 

Her  only  love  in  this  world — or  the  other. 


ANSELMO.  67 

XCIX. 

Love  springs  spontaneous  from  the  souPs  deep  fountain; 

Pure  as  the  stream  of  life's  pellucid  river; 
Wells  upward  to  the  spirit's  loftiest  mountain, 

Thence  through  the  heart  pours  its  fond  tide  forever! 
What  mortal  can  the  flood  immortal  contain  ? 

Why  flows  it  back  to  life's  eternal  Giver  ? 
Love's  sigh  excels  a  seraph's  rapt  emotion: 
Love's  gushing  stream  is  an  eternal  ocean. 

c. 

The  Minstrel  paused:  a  fitting  time  for  rest: 
The  tropic  noon  with  stealthy  lassitude, 

The  body  and  the  mind  alike  opprest; 

While  mother  earth  her  breast  with  flowers  strewed, 

To  the  siesta  welcomed  host  and  guest; 

Now  while  they  slumber,  let  us  not  intrude, 

Nor  judge  too  harshly  of  the  Minstrel's  song, 

Lest  he  should  not  his  chosen  theme  prolong. 


END  OF  CANTO  II. 
F* 


ANSELMO. 


CANTO     THIRD. 

i. 

NOT  long  the  Minstrel  slept.  His  thoughts  refused 
To  sink  at  bidding,  to  profound  repose; 

They  had  been  marshalled  to  a  theme  unused 
For  many  a  year;  and  now  they  would  dispose 

Of  it.      His  mind  a  moment  seemed  confused 
With  various  themes:  at  length  the  Minstrel  rose* 

Tuning  his  harp,  he  swept  its  chords  again, 

And  thus  renewed  the  song  with  solemn  strain. 

n. 
Life,  overflowing  its  eternal  fount, 

Exultant  down  the  everlasting  skies, 
In  crystal  streams,  too  numerous  to  recount, 

Too  complicate  of  form  to  analyze, 
Flooded  the  rude,  dark  earth,  o'er  vale  and  mount, 

Till  out  of  chaos,  order  did  arise: 
Light  shed  o'er  the  abyss  its  soft  effulgence, 
And  beauty,  smiling,  dallied  with  indulgence. 


ANSELMO.  69 

III. 
The  grass  sprang  wanton  from  earth's  quickened  breast, 

Robing  its  parent  in  immortal  green ; 
And  balmy  herb,  and  fragrant  flower  imprest 

The  verdant  vesture,  with  celestial  sheen; 
And  trees  full  grown,  leapt  forth  from  their  long  rest 

Flinging  umbrageous  branches  o'er  the  scene: 
While  bud  and  blossom  grace  the  clustering  vine; 
And  blushing  fruits  with  mellow  radiance  shine. 

IV. 

Forth  from  the  teeming  depths  of  ocean  came 

Gigantic  forms  of  animated  being; 
From  rivers,  finny  tribes,  web-footed  game, 

Surprise  themselves  with  swimming,  flying,  seeing; 
And  birds  of  richest  hue  and  ardent  flame, 

Vocalize  the  grove  with  passion's  charmful  gleeing; 
Gay  flocks,  grave  herds  range,  happy  o'er  the  plains; 
The  lion,  monarch  of  the  forest,  reigns. 

v. 
Then  Man  stood  forth;  the  noblest  form  of  life; 

Extreme  of  fancy  and  reality ; 
With  tameless  appetites  and  passions  rife, 

And  lofty  intellectuality ; 
Blending  with  peace  the  elements  of  strife; 

Mortal  conjoined  with  immortality; 
Alone,  he  stood!  Creation's  lordly  head, 
Unblest,  unmatched,  unmated  and  unwed. 


70  ANSELMO. 

VI. 
To  charm  his  loneliness,  with  sweet  surprise, 

Laden  with  golden  fruits  and  fairest  flowers, 
Eden  sprang  forth  to  his  admiring  eyes, 

Replete  with  murmuring  streams  and  fairy  bowers, 
He  saw  the  Tree  of  Life  immortal  rise, 

To  nerve  with  angel  strength  his  mortal  powers; 
Fountains  of  bliss — full  soon  insipid  grown; 
He  slept — all  solitary  as  the  Sun. 

VII. 

Satiate  with  sensuous  bliss,  he  soundly  slept 
Beneath  the  shadows  of  life's  balmy  tree; 

And  sleeping,  dreamed ;  and  dreaming,  sighed  and  wept; 
But  whether  sighs  of  joy  and  tears  of  glee; 

Or,  griefful  thrilling  o'er  his  spirit  crept, 
Remaineth  yet  a  darksome  mystery: 

He  slept,  unconscious  that  his  sporting  side 

Had  lost  a  rib,  or  won  for  him  a  bride. 

vm. 
Up-borne,  self-buoyant,  wandering — he  dreamed: 

Far,  far  away  beside  a  silvery  river,  [seemed 

With  wreaths  of    rose-buds   crowned,  he  saw   what 

A  man  in  miniature,  with  bow  and  quiver; — 
For  on  his  virgin  fancy  ne'er  had  beamed 

The  idea  of  a  Boy!    Nor  would  it  ever, 
Had  not  a  tiny  shaft  that  moment  prest 
Its  wounding  point  against  his  naked  breast. 


ANSELMO.  71 

IX. 
A  lily-Jeaf-boat  floated  from  the  shore; 

Away  wafts  Cupid  down  the  limpid  stream, 
His  merry  heart  with  laughter  runneth  o'er; 

His  wanton  eyes  with  Love's  soft  malice  beam: 
The  wandering  dreamer  finds  surprising  more, 

Each  new-wrought  feature  of  his  pristine  dream: 
Smiling,  he  plucks  the  Lilliputian's  dart; 
Sighing,  he  feels  its  point  hath  touched  his  heart. 

x. 

See,  on  his  mossy  couch,  inlaid  with  flowers, 
With  changeful  brow,  how  restlessly  he  turns ; 

The  lights  and  shadows  glow  and  fade,  like  hours; 
Conflicting  passion  in  his  bosom  burns; 

His  soul  seems  wrestling  with  superior  powers ; 
His  heart  accepts  the  bribe  his  spirit  spurns: 

He  would  be  chief  of  an  immortal  race; 

Not  the  joint  limner  of  an  infant  face. 

XI. 

He  wrakes:  his  lips  are  thrilling  with  a  kiss! 

From  ripe  lips,  rich  as  wine  and  pure  as  fire: 
Woman  the  glorious  bribe !  The  sum  of  bliss ! 

Inhales  the  flames  her  beauty  doth  inspire: 
Raptly,  he  cries,  what  new-wrought  joy  is  this  ? 

His  eyes  gleam  love  through  mists  of  soft  desire: 
With  love's  refluent  tides,  her  heart  opprest — 
Languid — she  sinks  on  the  same  couch  to  rest. 


72  ANSELMO. 

XII. 
Oh,  sleep!  Thou  art  indeed  a  wondrous  thing— 

More  wonderful  the  dreams  thou  dost  inspire; 
The  earth-born  sense  dissolves :  on  bouyant  wing1, 

The  disenthralled  spirit  mounteth  higher; 
Drinketh  deep  draughts  from  life's  reviving  spring; 

Gloweth  with  beams  of  love  and  thoughts  of  fire: 
Sleep  gives  the  weary  rest,  the  wanderer  hope ; 
Dreams  are  the  soul's  divine  kaleidescope. 

XIII. 

What  fate  ordains,  'tis  madness  to  oppose; 

Folly  to  scan  the  dark  decrees  of  Heaven: 
Dream  on,  fond  pair!  Ah,  brief  is  your  repose; 

Bitter  the  draught  of  life  to  mortals  given, 
Ere  thrice  yon  sun  his  annual  round  shall  close, 

From  your  sweet  paradise  ye  shall  be  driven, 
By  Cherubim,  now  eager  for  the  strife; 
Armed  with  the  sword,  to  guard  the  Tree  of  Life. 

XIV. 

The  sword!  Ah,  that  reminds  me  of  my  theme: 
The  sword  was  forged  in  heaven  by  hands  divine; 

The  free  and  brave  admire  its  vivid -gleam; 
The  fair,  with  flowers,  its  lustre  doth  entwine; 

When  myrtle-wreathed,  'tis  pleasant  as  a  dream; 
Gentle  as  woman;   delicate  as  wine: 

When  from  the  inglorious  scabbard  it  doth  leap, 

Thrones  sink  in  dust  and  tyrants  basely  sleep. 


ANSELMO.  73 

XV. 

Don  Carlos  girded  on  the  trusty  sword 
His  noble  sires  had  worn  in  days  of  yore ; 

With  firm  step  trod  again  the  rich  green-sward, 
Where  victory  wooed  him  on  his  native  shore; 

But  now  she  gave  him  a  coquette's  reward; 
His  victories  few,  his  well-fought  battles  more: 

Than  foreign  war,  he  found  more  irksome  far, 

The  household  butchery  of  civil  war. 

XVI. 

Oft-times  amid  the  sanguine  battle-strife, 

The  proud  old  warrior  felt  an  intense  yearning 

To  grace  the  tomb  of  his  long  sainted  wife 
With  tear-libations:  homeward  he  returning, 

Would  clasp  again  her  image,  in  whose  life 
And  love  he  lived,  and  kept  forever  burning 

Upon  the  altar  of  his  heart,  the  fire 

Of  nuptial  bliss  her  charms  did  erst  inspire. 

XVII. 

While  thus  this  noble  patriot  did  exile 

Himself  from  all  the  gracious  ties  which  bind 

A  father  to  endearments  without  guile, 

To  serve  his  country  when  her  sons,  with  blind 

Ambition,  sought  her  honors  to  defile; 
To  drive  her  as  a  wreck  before  the  wind; 

The  bishop-guardian  revelled  day  and  night; 

And  found  in  sensual  joys  his  chief  delight. 


74  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XVIII. 
Ho  had  two  boon  companions,  young  and  gay, 

Who,  like  himself,  were  devotees  of  pleasure: 
Don  Ramon  and  Don  Tomas;  yet,  were  they 

In  creed  most  orthodox;  they  laid  up  treasure 
In  heaven — by  proxy — a  convenient  way; 

All  three  were  men  of  letters,  lust  and  leisure: 
Being  thus  congenial,  whether  wise  or  mad, — 
They  called  themselves  the  Philosophic  Triad. 

XIX. 

Their  council-chamber  was  not  square,  or  round; 

It  was  triangular — the  panels  three; 
Each  panel  a  large  mirror,  draped  around 

With  scarlet,  purple  and  white  taffeta, 
Set  with  three  golden  stars  on  silver  ground ; 

On  the  blue  ceiling  were  three  ships  at  sea; 
Whence  three  large  lamps,  by  golden  chains  suspended, 
Thro'  shades  red,  green  and  blue  their  soft  light  blended. 

xx. 

The  altar-table  was  a  central  fixture, 

Three-sided,  with  a  finely-polished  surface, — 

Slate,  marble,  quartz,  in  equal  parts  jts  texture; 
Two  gods,  one  goddess,  did  its  centre  grace, — 

The  metal, — a  brass,  gold  and  silver  mixture; 
They  stood  there  back  to  back,  not  face  to  face: 

Their  names — none  need  inquire  about  their  genus — 

Are  Bacchus,  Cupid  and  his  mother  Venus. 


A  N  8  £  L  M  0  .  75 

XXI. 
A  gallon  was  each  god's  capacity; 

But  each  supplied  a  different  kind  of  wine; 
Bacchus,  rich  port;  Cupid,  with  audacity, 

Mixed  with  his  sherry,  a  very  little  fine 
Old  cognac;   Venus,  with  more  sagacity, 

Expressed  her  champagne  sparkling  from  the  vine: 
Three  golden  goblets  on  the  altar  stood, 
One  for  each  member  of  the  brotherhood. 

XXII. 

On  the  rich  Turkish  carpet  was  inwrought, 
Most  skilfully,  three  scenes  from  Scripture  taken : 

Here,  Jacob  at  the  well,  his  uncle  sought; 

Kiss'd  Rachel,  and  then  wept,  like  one  forsaken: 

There  Sampson  in  Delilah's  lap  was  caught; 

Lot's  Daughter's  in  the  cave  their  father  waking: 

Those  pictures  of  an  ancient  pious  nation, 

Were,  to  the  Triad,  food  for  meditation. 

XXIII. 

Three  seats  adapted  to  the  altar  sides, 
Not  moveable,  but  of  most  antique  style, 

Each  seat  for  one,  or  three  arranged,  besides, 
When  pleasure  did  the  occupants  beguile, 

They  were  extended  by  a  secret  slide, 

That  weary  worshipers  might  rest  awhile; 

Between  them  and  the  mirrors  and  each  seat, 

Were  aisles — and  other  accommodations  meet. 


76  A  N.S  E  L  M  O. 

XXIV. 
The  only  motto  which  this  temple  graced, 

Was  taken  from  the  proverbs  of  a  sage, 
And  was  in  Latin,  Greek  and  Hebrew  traced 

On  each  bright  mirror,  as  upon  a  page, — 
"Eat  drink  and  be  merry  " — but  why  this  taste 

For  style  and  learning  of  a  Scripture  age  ? 
Surely  not  for  show;    perhaps,  designed  alone, 
To  give  the  temple  a  high  moral  tone. 

xxv. 
The  rules  were  three:  First;  no  one  shall  defile 

The  temple  with  apparel,  coarse  or  fine: 
Next;  twice  three  nymphs,  the  tedium  to  beguile, — 

The  number  present  must  be  three,  or  nine: 
Third;    open  with  three  rounds  in  mystic  style, — 

And  close  with  three  times  three: — adding,  in  fine, 
A  song  from  each  grave  Triad,  as  doxology, — 
And  this  comprised  their  wisdom  and  theology. 

XXVI. 

In  form,  the  divan  opened  at  eleven; 

And  regularly  closed  at  3  A.  M.  ; 
And  when  the  intermediate  hours  were  given, 

By  the  Cathedral  clock,  then  all  of  them 
Rose  up  and  drank  in  honor  of  the  Seven 

Wise  men  of  Greece, — and  babe  of  Bethlehem: 
On  the  occasion  which  is  here  related, 
Ramon  sung  thus, — to  close,  as  has  been  stated  : 


AKSELMO.  77 

I. 

Come  let  us  drink;    the  midnight  hour, 

Invites  us  all  to  one  glass  more: 
The  toast — confusion  to  all  power; 

Death  to  all  tyrants  evermore. 
Tis  one  o'clock,  love's  witching  hour 

Murmurs  the  watchword, — one  glass  more: 
The  toast; — alone  to  woman's  power, 

We  bow  in  reverence,  we  adore. 

2. 

Tis  two  o'clock:  the  hour  of  duty 

Remindeth  us  of  one  glass  more: 
The  toast; — a  health  to  love  and  beauty; — 

Come  let  us  drink  it  o'er  and  o'er. 
The  clock  strikes  three;  the  closing  hour,    *• 

Invites  to  three  times  three  rounds  more; 
The  toast; — may  we  all  find  the  bower 
Of  Love,  upon  the  other  shore. 

XXVI. 

Then  three  full  rounds  were  drank  by  all  the  nine, 
The  first  to  Bacchus  and  his  royal  Port; 

The  second  round  to  Cupid  and  his  fine 

Old  Sherry — mixed  with  some  of  stronger  sort: 

The  third  to  Venus  and  her  sparkling  wine, — 
Rich  smooth  Champagne  from  distant  islands  brought ; 

And  as  all  now  were  feeling  somewhat  mellow, 

Don  Tomas  sung  like  a  fine,  jovial  fellow: — 


78  ANSELMO. 

1. 

Oh,  let  us  love,  while  love  we  may, 

The  morn  of  life  is  flying, 
And,  like  the  flowers,  we  pass  away, 

Fading,  unfragrant,  dying. 
The  early  dawn  is  blithe  and  gay; 

The  spring  with  beauty  gloweth; 
But  when  the  spring  has  passed  away, 

And  Summer, — then  it  snoweth. 

2. 

Oh,  let  us  love,  while  love  we  may; 

The  thrush  loves  while  he  singeth: 
In  youth  the  heart  with  melody, 

And  love's  own  music  ringeth. 
The  tender  passions  love  to  play, 

While  Time  with  us  is  merry, 
While  dimpling  cheeks  the  rose  display 

And  lips  out-blush  the  cherry. 

3. 

Oh,  let  us  love,  while  love  we  may, 

Ere  care,  hope's  chalice  dasheth; 
While  yet  our  eye,  the  lightning Tay 

Of  warm  desire  flasheth; 
Like  Time,  love  hath  its  blooming  May, 

All  fragrant,  sweet,  but  flying; 
Then  let  us  wing  its  hours  away 

With  kisses,  smiles  and  sighing1. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  79 

4. 

Youth  is  the  time  to  love,  and  they 

Who  wait  a  better  season, 
Will  find  that  Cupid  can  not  play 

With  old  gray-headed  Reason. 
Then  let  us  love,  while  love  we  may, 

The  morn  of  life  is  flying ; 
And  like  the  flowers,  we  pass  away, 

Fading,  unfragrant,  dying. 

XXVIII. 

The  second  round  was  drank  in  gleeful  mood; — 
Each  Triad  held  his  goblet  high,  and  swore 

His  own  lips  should  not  taste  the  rosy  flood, 
Which  sparkled  on  the  dazzling  brim,  before 

The  nymphs  so  fair,  which  then  beside  him  stood, 
With  kisses  hallowed  it:   thus  men  adore 

Women  and  wine, — whether  peasant,  priest  or  king:— 

The  Bishop  now  this  closing  song  did  sing: 

1. 

Three  in  one,  now  the  Triad  address, 

As  one  spirit,  the  beautiful  six: 
The  new  wine  which  on  earth  we  express, 

We  will  drink  when  we  cross  over  Styx. 
Wreathe  the  goblet  with  roses,  my  girl; 

Let  it  sparkle  with  wine  to  the  brim; 
First:   a  health  to  old  Time,  lest  the  churl, 

Make  the  soft  light  of  desire  burn  dim. 
a* 


80  ANSELMO. 

2. 
Fill  to  Bacchus,  my  beautiful  girl; 

Let  us  drink  to  the  clustering  vine, 
Whose  fond  tendrils  so  gracefully  curl 

Round  the  soft  swelling  fountains  of  wine. 
Fill  to  Cupid,  my  loveable  girl; — 

The  Boy-God  and  Venus  his  mother! 
Love  and  beauty!  Life's  diamond  and  pearl: — 

And  now  we  will  drink  to  each  other. 

3. 

To  thine  eyes,  my  adorable  girl ; 

Thy  ripe  lips  where  smiles  wantonly  rove: 
Stars  and  rosebuds!  I  drink  while  I  whirl 

In  the  wildest  delirium  of  love! 
Fill  again, — three  times  three — my  fond  girl; 

To  the  silent  and  shadowy  shore, — 
All  of  Earth  and  of  Heaven,  I  hurl! 

Lip  to  lip:  let  us  drink  evermore! — 

XXIX. 

Kneeling;  each  Triad  on  the  altar  placed 
His  brimming  goblet;   then  beside  him  knelt 

Too  charming  nymphs,  whose  youth  and  beauty  graced 
This  mystic  scene:  whate'er  was  thought,  or  felt, 

No  word  was  spoken:   on  no  brow  was  traced 
A  line  of  care ;  all  passions  seemed  to  melt 

In  one  broad,  calm,  deep  fount  of  flowing  blisses; — 

The  rounds  thus  taken,  were  surcharged  with  kisses. 


ANSELMO.  81 

XXX. 

Rumor  hath  wings  as  potent  as  her  tongue, 

Silent,  invisible,  mysterious; 
To  whose  remorseless  flapping  doth  belong 

The  power  to  make  the  giddiest  maiden  serious: 
While  man,  of  bolder  spirit,  grave  and  strong, 

By  its  suspense  hath  oft  been  made  delirious: 
He  sees  no  shadow,  heareth  no  rude  sound, 
Yet  feels  the  quakings  of  a  fear  profound. 

XXXI. 

Immeasurable  space  hath  not  the  power 
To  stay  dark  Rumor  in  her  mystic  course  ; 

Nor  thrones,  nor  charms  of  past,  or  present  hour 
Can  turn  aside  her  desolating  force; 

Alike  she  makes  the  girl  and  hero  cower, 
Like  children  in  the  presence  of  a  corse  : 

No  arrow  gleameth  through  the  yielding  air; 

Still  poisoned  shafts  are  falling  fast  and  near. 

XXXII. 

A  broken  thought  whirled  through  the  Don's  head,  oh, 
It  was  mere  nothing,  still  it  was  unpleasant; 

As  when  a  cloudlet  flittcth  thwart  the  meadow, 
While  yet  the  new  moon  is  a  pallid  cresent, 

Casting  a  tremulously  doubtful  shadow, 
More  like  the  ghostly  past  than  lusty  present; 

The  fragment  of  a  fancy  so  uncertain, 

The  Don  first  thought  he  saw  it  through  a  curtain. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


82  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XXXIII. 

Full  oft  it  came,  and  did  as  often  borrow 

A  varying  shade  and  form  of  less  distinctness ; 

Now  like  a  pres^age  of  a  dark  to-morrow, 

Blending  the  future  with  a  bold  succinctness; 

Then  it  would  shed  a  mist  of  present  sorrow, 
So  lightly  evanescent,  he  would  think  less 

Of  it  as  a  disturber  of  to-day's  rest, — 

Than  of  to-morrow's  or  of  by-gone  days  blest. 

XXXIV. 

At  length  the  Don,  just  ready  to  depart, 

His  proud  ship  riding  by  her  bower  anchor, 

Learnt,  what  the  busy  world  knew  long  by  heart, 
The  utter  failure  of  his  Bishop-banker: 

A  subtle  pang  coiled  round  his  festering  heart; 
Which,  vulture-like,  fed  on  the  growing  canker: 

As  all  his  thoughts  intently  fixed  upon  her, 

The  winds  were  whispering  Julia  and  dishonor. 

XXXV. 

He  turned  around,  like  one  who  makes  a  blunder, 
To  see  what  curious  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him; 

Or,  one  who  fancieth  he  heareth  thuntler; 

Or,  what's  the  same,  a  voice  which  doth  dun  him, 

And  doubts  if  'tis  above,  or  rolls  from  under, 

As  either  sphere  claims  equal  right  to  stun  him: 

The  waves  were  rolling  and  the  sun  still  shining, 

Poor  Tray  whose  toes  he  trod  on,  sadly  whining. 


ANSELMO.  83 

XXXVI. 

No  oath  was  heard,  no  angry  demonstration, 
No  furious  outburst  of  controlless  passion: 

No  cursing  the  Creator,  or  Creation, 

As  with  some  baptized  braggarts  is  the  fashion: 

His  nostrils  showed  a  little  more  dilation; 
His  color  faded  slightly  to  Circassian; 

Biting  his  lips,  he  kept  some  vagrant  thought  in, 

Which  strove  to  'scape  the  agony  it  wrought  in. 

XXXVII. 

The  good  Don  was  no  worshipper  of  Mammon, 

Nor  too  devout  at  any  other  shrine; 
He  breakfasted  on  salad,  sack  and  salmon; 

On  oysters,  garlic,  turkies,  trout  could  dine; 
Take  his  siesta,  then  chess  and  back-gammon; 

All  hours  suited  for  his  Rhenish  wine: 
With  music,  dance  and  song  beguiled  the  even, 
Enough  for  earth,  he  asked  no  more  for  heaven. 

XXXVIII. 

The  spell  of  silence  finally  was  broken; 

For  silence  never  yet  was  long  in  power; 
A  gentle  word,  though  still  more  gently  spoken, 

Doth  thrill  it  as  a  touch  the  sentient  flower: 
Heaven  hath  not  given  to  man  a  single  token, 

That'it  shall  reign  on  earth  more  than  one  hour 
In  Heaven,  half  an  hour  is  its  limit, 
Thus  proving  fewer  men  than  women  it  it. 


84  A  N  -8  E  L  M  0  , 

XXXIX. 

The  spell  was  broken:  mildly  as  the  even 
Glides  in  the  dark  embraces  of  the  night, 

His  tone  so  sad,  a  heart  it  might  have  riven; 
His  word  betrayed  nor  passion,  nor  delight : 

"Alas,  poor  Tray  ! — have  I  unkindly  driven 
Thee  to  complain,  so  faithful,  true  and  right:" 

Turning  upon  his  heel,  he  went  awhile  thence; 

The  thought  was  wrapt  in  everlasting  silence. 

XL. 
Full  many  a  day  the  noble  Tarantula, 

Swung  at  her  moorings  in  the  bay  of  Cadiz; 
The  Captain  thought  the  Don  had  turned  fool,  or, 

What  he  deemed  worse,  had  gone  to  see  the  ladies; 
He  knew  not  that  the  only  land  of  Beulah 

The  Don  thought  of,  was  on  the  field  where  grade  is 
Synonomous  with  duty,  danger,  dying; 
Triumph  pressing  forward,  foeman  flying. 

XLI. 
On  went  the  Don,  through  city,  town  and  villa; 

Forward  he  spurred,  of  food  and  horse-hide  reckless; 
Through  field  and  forest,  up  and  down  the  hill,  or, 

Where  rolling  rivers  rushed  on  bridgless,  deckless; 
Ne'er  rode  more  recklessly  the  wild  guerrilla, 

To  save  his  life,  or  kiss  his  lady's  necklace: 
For  robber  though  he  be,  the  smile  of  woman, 
Is  dearer  to  him  than  the  gold  of  foeman. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  85 

XLII. 

Old  Seville  was  a  charger  of  great  merit; 

His  master's  spirit  he  could  well  divine ; 
Bucephalus  did  not  more  grace  inherit, 

Nor  bear  more  safely  martial  sacks  of  wine; 
Alike  they  shared  their  hero's  princely  spirit, 

And  loved  the  rich  dew  of  the  clustering  vine: 
Seville  well  knew  that  when  the  Don  did  reel, 
His  brains  were  settling  down  into  his  heel. 

XLIII. 
On  from  the  sea-board,  as  he  felt  the  reins, 

Thrown  loosely  on  his  neck  by  his  superior, 
He  took  his  way:  in  titles,  not  in  brains, 

Horses  to  heroes  only  are  inferior; 
He,  like  a  pioneer,  swept  hills  and  plains, 

And  travelled  many  a  league  in  the  interior; — 
He  had  his  own  way,  like  a  pretty  woman, 
Unguided  by  a  hand  divine  or  human. 

XLIV. 
Night  came  apace,  and  Seville  yet  was  flying, 

Heedless  alike  of  substance  and  of  shadow; 
Nor  when  the  pallid  stars  of  morn  were  dying 

Away  in  light,  like  lovers  growing  sadder, 
Had  his  pace  slackened,  as  if  he  were  trying 

His  skill  at  travel,  without  crib,  or  meadow: 
A  patent  homeopathic  way  to  fat  you ; — 
Still  on  him  sat  Don  Carlos  like  a  statue. 


86  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XLV. 

Neither  turned  to  the  right  hand,  or  the  left, 
Nor  gave  to  aught  the  glances  of  recognizance, 

Till  down  a  hill  careering,  quite  bereft 
Of  arms  and  officers,  a  rout's  advance 

Were  scattering  far  and  wide  all  things  of  heft, 
To  quicken  pace,  Seville,  with  snort  and  prance, 

Dashed  from  the  strange  and  medley  throng  away, 

And  roused  Don  Carlos  from  his  lethargy. 

XL  VI. 

Don  Carlos  gazed  around,  like  one  awaking 

From  a  dim  dream,  devoid  of  light  and  gladness; 

As  one  by  one  his  unreefed  thoughts  were  shaking 
In  reason's  breath,  his  features  gathered  sadness ; 

Then  yielding  to  a  fierce  internal  quaking, 

His  brow  grew  darker  with  the  gloom  of  madness: 

On,  Seville,  on,  he  cried;  haste  thee  to  slaughter; 

Old  charger,  hist !     The  watchword  is — My  Daughter 

XLVII. 
Gazing  beyond,  then  in  his  stirrups  rising, 

He  stood  erect,  as  if  to  think  a  minute ; 
Not  to  complete  a  scheme  of  new  demising, 

But  to  determine  where  he  should  begin  it; 
Then  bending  forward,  as  if  still  surmising, 

Said — "  I  have  found  it;  onward,  we  shall  win  it: 
On,  Seville,  to  the  pass  of  yonder  mountain; 
We'll  turn  the  tide  of  war,  or  drain  life's  fountain." 


ANSELMO.  87 

XLVIII. 
Highway  and  field,  both  far  and  wide  are  thronged; 

Men,  horses,  cattle,  all  in  wild  confusion; 
To  whom  nor  fear,  nor  cowardice  belonged 

Before,  were  victims  of  affright's  delusion; 
Each  trode  the  other  down,  as  if  he  wronged 

Himself,  if  he  did  not  inflict  contusion 
On  his  next  friend,  in  every  step  advancing, — 
Like  politicians  'twixt  two  parties  dancing. 

XLIX. 
On  as  they  swept,  the  Don  and  his  black  charger, 

Confusion  more  confounded  seized  the  rout; 
The  phantom  made  their  fear  and  courage  larger, 

They  would  not  go  on,  could  not  turn  about; 
And  though  sans  powder,  shot,  sword,  musket,  targe,  or 

Other  arms  offensive,  they  were  devout 
In  kicks,  cuffs,  curses,  gratis  on  each  other; 
As  wealthy  Christians  greet  a  beggar  brother. 

L. 
The  pass  is  gained:  an  army  slow  advancing, 

With  arms  reversed  and  colors  in  the  dust, 
In  sullen  gloom,  reflecting  the  mischancing 

Of  fields  well-planned,  far  more  than  a  distrust 
Of  skill,  and  tact,  and  bravery  enhancing 

The  worth  of  captains ;  learning  as  all  must, 
The  battle  is  not  always  to  the  strongest; 
Nor  wifedom  to  her  who  may  court  the  longest. 
H 


88  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

LI. 
On  as  they  march,  unheeding  all  about  them, 

Each  weary  footstep  shows  them  sore  distrest,  [them 
Weighed  down  with  cares  more  in  them  than  without 

With  conscious  want  of  self-respect  opprest, 
A  sturdy  warrior's  eye  would  never  doubt  them, 

Though  still  retreating,  as  of  nobler  crest: 
The  brave,  retreating,  lift  scarce  foot  or  eye; 
Cowards  wing  their  heels,  and  without  blushing  fly. 

LII. 
On  still  they  come ;  the  heavy  martial  clangor 

Of  arms,  men,  horses,  deaden  every  sound: 
Life's  in  the  onset,  in  the  repulse  languor; 

All  nature  suffers  with  the  soul's  rebound: 
Was  that  a  spirit's  voice  which  just  rang?  or 

Cometh  it  echoing  upward  from  the  ground? 
Cliff  answereth  cliff,  and  rocks  respond  to  bowers ; 
"Haiti  Spaniards,  wheel!  The  victory  shall  be  ours." 

LIII. 
The  voice  was  recognized:  their  favorite  chief, 

Who  oft  had  led  them  on  to  victory, 
Now  came  with  ample  forces  for  relief, 

Or,  now  rebuked  them  from  his  rest  on  high: 
In  either  case,  the  power  of  belief 

Was  strong  enough  to  make  them  turn  and  die; 
Or,  conquer  on  the  field,  whence  they  were  driven, 
Thus  sharing  in  his  triumph,  or  his  heaven. 


ANSELMO.  89 

LIV. 

The  die  was  cast:  as  if  by  inspiration, 

They  flung  their  trailing  banners  to  the  sky; 

The  fire  of  war  burst  from  its  concentration 

Within,  while  flitting  flames  flashed  from  the  eye; 

On  swept  the  Don,  as  if  a  revelation 

Had  been  embodied  and  sent  from  on  high, 

To  save  the  Crown,  the  Cross,  the  holy  Mother, 

Inspiring  brother  saints  to  kill  each  other. 

LV. 
On  swept  the  Don,  from  line  to  line,  reviivng 

The  flagging  spirits  of  the  true  and  brave ; 
On  where  the  bold,  the  battle's  brunt  surviving, 

Still  face  the  foe,  not  hoping  life  to  save, 
But  cover  a  retreat;  now  backward  driving 

The  victors  to  a  soldier's  gory  grave ; 
Now  in  their  turn,  driven  to  the  gates  of  death, 
Backward  they  enter — like  heroes  yield  their  breath. 

LVI. 
Old  Seville,  pausing,  lifts  his  head  on  high; 

Surveys  the  field  with  more  delight  than  wonder; 
Fierce  lightnings  fiash  out  from  his  rolling  eye; 

He  paws  the  valley  clods  and  rocks  asunder: 
Majestic  as  the  tempest-riven  sky, 

His  proud  neck  wreathes  with  rifts  of  living  thunder: 
His  broad  distended  nostrils  proudly  gleaming, 
With  glory  terrible  as  JEtna  streaming. 


90  ANSELMO. 

LVII. 
He  laugheth  at  affright:    mocks  at  all  fear: 

Deeming  the  cannon's  roar  but  infant  prattle; 
Rejoiceth  in  his  strength,  as  if  to  dare 

The  God  of  war;  the  mighty  shock  of  battle: 
Leapeth  up  from  earth,  and  poising  mid  air, 

Shakes  his  huge  mane,  makes  the  vast  concave  rattle; 
In  his  own  powers  placing  firm  reliance, 
Neighing,  he  hurls  the  gauntlet  of  defiance. 

LVIII. 
Now  snuffing  up  the  battle  from  afar, 

He  scents  the  thunder  of  the  Captain's  scouting : 
Dashing  through  bristling  files,  nor  shield,  nor  spear, 

Rattling  against  him  give  a  moment's  doubting : 
To  loudest  blast  of  trumpet,  cries,  Ha!  Ha!     [shouting 

Sweeps  through   the   serried   ranks  where  wildest 
And  fiercest  fighting  flings  war's  fiery  fever 
Deep  in  the  veins,  exhausting  life  forever. 

LIX. 
Fierce  is  the  struggle  'twixt  hope  and  despair; 

More  fiercely  grapple  hope  and  hope  reviving: 
Hope  strikes  to  conquer,  despair  but  to  dare 

The  conquerer  to  deeds  of  over-striving, 
Who,  self-exhausted,  findeth  false  as  fair, 

The  dead-sea  fruits  of  victory  surviving; 
Like  coquette's  triumphs,  yet  who  would  restrict  her, 
The  blow  which  conquers  oft  exhausts  the  victor. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  91 

LX. 

Now  lost  in  dust  and  smoke;  now  seen  afar, 
Where  on  the  verge  of  victory,  too  confiding, 

Defeat  in  darkness  sits;  oft,  like  a  star 

Gleaming  through  clouds,  the  struggling  foe  dividing, 

Don  Carlos  shone  a  glowing  god  of  war, 
Contending  for  the  triumph,  yet  abiding 

'Mid  fiercest  conflict  of  increasing  slaughter; 

His  only  words,  "Ho,  Seville — hist,  my  Daughter!  n 

LXI. 
The  clash  of  arms,  as  brigade  and  division 

Wheel-in  to  share  the  long  and  doubtful  contest; 
The  groan-rent  air;  the  din  of  huge  collision; 

Rifle  balls  riddling  through  the  human  breast; 
The  crash  of  living  bones,  as  with  precision, 

Canister  and  grape,  long  colunms  sweep  to  rest: 
War  's  glorious  terrors  in  the  conflict  blending ; 
Nor  with  the  daylight  the  death-struggle  ending. 

LXII. 
Terrific  War!  Whence  thy  strange  fascination? 

Kings  play,  enchanted,  at  thy  bloody  game; 
Princes  tread  thy  sanguine  courts  for  recreation; 

Heroes  adore  thee  as  the  god  of  fame : 
Soldiers,  the  living  bulwarks  of  their  nation, 

Find  thy  proud  triumphs  but  an  empty  name ; 
On  them  Ambition  bids  thy  legions  charge; 

Havoc  and  Death  the  quivering  breach  enlarge. 
H* 


92  ANSELMQ. 

LVIII. 

War,  what  is  right?  The  power  to  enforce 
On  weaker  tribes  the  dictates  of  thy^will  ? 

War,  what  is  honor  ?  A  soul  where  dark  remorse, 
Haunts  not  the  hero  who  hath  nerve  to  kill? 

War,  what  is  glory?  Carnage  in  full  course 

On  Victory's  wings,  proclaimed  by  clarions  shrill? 

Are  these  thine  Ethics?  This  the  glorious  code, 

By  which  thou  marshallest  nations  home  to  God  ? 

LXIV. 
Hast  thou  the  warrant  of  antiquity, 

Endorsed  by  Reason  and  by  Revelation? 
Fire,  flood  and  famine,  with  prolixity, 

Full  often  decimate  a  peaceful  nation: 
Disease,  with  powers  of  ubiquity, 

Devours  the  human  race  without  cessation: 
Are  these  the  harvest  implements  of  Heaven, 
To  garner  up  the  life  to  mortals  given? 

LXV. 
War  plumes  a  haughty  crest,  claims  heavenly  birth; 

His  pride  and  pomp  are  themes  of  ancient  story; 
Magnificent  in  madness  and  in  mirth, 

Beauty  craves  his  smile,  although  his  hand  is  gory. 
War  sprang  not  from  the  pedigrees  of  earth; 

He  rose  resplendent  in  empyrean  glory: 
And  though  by  Fate,  from  high  Olympus  driven, 
He  dared  the  Thunderer  in  his  native  Heaven. 


ANSELMO.  93 

LXVI. 
Erst,  in  the  ancient  days  of  Amraphel, 

When  Kings  were  Patriarchs,  and  Shepherds  Kings ; 
When  marshalled  hosts  in  Siddim  fought  and  fell, 

And  victors  bore  the  spoils  on  vulture  wings; 
War  called  the  faithful  Hebrew  to  expel 

The  proud  invaders  and  bring  back  Lot's  things; 
With  war-crowned  glory,  Father  Abraham  stood, 
The  foe  of  tyrants  and  the  Friend  of  God. 

LXVII. 
Next  on  the  plains  of  Troy,  in  proud  array, 

With  martial  music  and  bright  banners  flying, 
War,  in  the  cause  of  Virtue,  did  display, 

For  ten  long  years,  chaste  Greeks  and  Trojans  dying ! 
The  gods  themselves  joined  in  the  grand  affray! 

Who  could  resist  the  lovery  Helen's  sighing? 
All-glorious  War?  Though  in  defense  of  fillies, 
Thou  dost  create  great  Hectors  and  Achilles  I 

LXVIII. 
Whose  hand  but  thine,  all  terrible  and  gory, 

Could  to  the  wandering  sons  of  God  have  given 
The  pleasant  land  of  Canaan?  Whence  the  glory 

Of  Israel,  for  ages,  shown  from  Heaven. 
Moses  had  in  the  wilderness  grown  hoary; 

The  Canaanites  must  from  their  homes  be  driven: 
Thou  did'st  beguile  the  moon  in  Ajalon, 
To  crown  the  victories  pious  Joshua  won! 


94  ANSELMO. 

LIX. 
War  hath  been  famous  as  a  politician; 

Most  popular  in  all  the  generations; 
An  able  and  most  eloquent  logician — 

Severe  and  mighty  arbiter  of  nations ; 
Bound  to  no  party,  like  a  bold  magician, 

He  finds  delight  in  change  of  place  and  station: 
To-day  War  crowneth  Kings  with  pomp  and  glory; 
To-morrow  blots  them  from  the  page  of  story. 

LXX. 
War  is  a  most  devout  Religionist! 

Proselyte  and  Apostle  of  all  creeds ; 
Champion  of  Christian,  Jew  and  Atheist; 

Impartial  both  to  colors  and  to  breeds; 
For  Romanist,  for  rigid  Calvinist, 

For  one  and  all,  War,  like  a  martyr  bleeds; 
Pouring  at  every  shrine  a  rich  libation 
Of  blood,  to  bring  poor  sinners  to  salvation. 

LXXI. 
When  through  the  Orient  gross  Idolatry 

Reared  reeking  shrines  alike  for  prince  and  peasant; 
Wrapping,  in  moral  darkness,  bond  arid  free, 

Blending  the  past  and  future  in  the  present; 
War,  to  the  line  laid  Justice  righteously, 

And  Judgment  to  the  plummet,  by  the  Crescent; 
War  crowned  with  victories  the  Moslem  Prophet, 
To  save  the  Nations  from  the  pit  of  Tophet. 


ANSELMO.  95 

LXXII 
When  Infidels  profaned  the  hallowed  grave 

Of  his  great  rival,  Jesus,  Prince  of  Peace, 
War,  doffed  the  Crescent,  donned  the  Cross,  to  save 

The  Holy  Sepulchre  for  Rome  and  Greece  1 
Made  hermits,  heroes;  timid  women,  brave; 

And  crowned  Godfrey  in  the  Holy  Place: 
War,  like  a  bold  and  sanctified  Crusader, 
From  Zion  hurled  the  Islamite  invader! 

LXXIII. 
What  if  War  doth  indulge  in  freaks  of  slaughter, 

And  slake  his  thirst  in  seas  of  human  gore? 
As,  when  at  Cannes  blood  flowed  free  as  water; 

And  over  Issus  like  a  flood  did  pour: 
Must  not  the  noblest  son  and  fairest  daughter 

Of  Adam,  by  Death  reach  the  shadowy  shore? 
If  War  had  not  doomed  hosts  by  Styx  to  wander, 
Where  would  be  Hannibal?  where  Alexander? 

LXXIV. 
No  mighty  Caesar  e'er  had  graced  the  world, 

Or  made  immortal  rippling  Rubicon; 
No  thrones  of  tyrants  to  the  dust  been  hurled ; 

No  gallic  Eagles — no  Napoleon; 
Freedom's  stars  and  stripes  had  never  been  unfurled; 

Columbia  ne'er  had  known  her  Washington, 
Had  War  not  crowned  himself  with  deathful  thunder, 
And  in  warm  blood  have  trodden  nations  under! 


96  ANSELMO.' 

LXXV. 

Night  wrapt  herself  in  clouds,  huge,  wild  and  bleak, 
Drowning  the  cannon 's  roar  in  rolling  thunder, 

Lightnings  flashed  forth,  as  if  the  very  crack 
Of  doom  had  rent  the  dark  abyss  asunder, 

And  let  the  kindling  fires  of  day  come  back, 
To  help  Don  Carlos  bring  the  rebels  under: 

The  vivid  flash  his  noble  form  revealing, 

Sublimer  than  the  storm  his  triumph  sealing. 

LXXVI. 
Fame  sketched  the  field:  with  heaps  of  slain  all  gory; 

The  war  did  with  that  stormy  night  expire; 
Around  the  loyal  dead  gleamed  rays  of  glory; 

Don  Carlos'  name  Fame  on  her  scroll  wrote  higher; 
The  poet  laureate  sang  the  heroic  story; 

His  royal  patrons  did  the  song  admire: 
But  from  these  things,  Don  Carlos  could  not  borrow 
A  healing  balm  for  his  corroding  sorrow. 

LXXVII. 
But  Time  came  to  his  aid:  Time,  whom  we  bless, 

As  friend  and  guardian  of  our  hapless  race: 
With  joy  Time  brings  us  love's  divina  caress; 

Wreathes  smiles  around  the  lines  care  doth  trace: 
Soothes  and  sustains  our  hearts  when  woes  oppress ; 

Smoothes  the  rude  scar,  death  only  can  efface ; 
When  shaft  and  wound  resist  all  skill  and  cure; 
Time  gives  counter  joys,  and  patience  to  endure. 


ANSELMO.  97 

LXXVIII. 

Swiftly  the  winged  seasons  passed  away; 

Don  Carlos  wed  a  young  and  blooming  bride; 
His  noble  ship  now  fully  under  weigh, 

Bears  them  on  homeward,  with  fair  wind  and*tide; 
And  while  on  Ocean's  wave,  yet  many  a  day, 

With  joys  increasing,  they  securely  glide, — 
As  the  lone  watcher  waits  the  tardy  morn, 
So  shall  I  wait,  to  welcome  his  return. 

LXXIX. 
The  weary  day  adown  the  glowing  West 

Sank  on  his  fleecy  couch  of  burnished  gold, 
And  like  the  day,  the  Minstrel  needed  rest: 

Though  young  in  heart,  his  harp  and  hands  were  old : 
He  leaned  a  moment  on  ANSELMO'S  breast: — 

The  Minstrel's  song  was  sung!  His  tale  was  told. 
In  warm  embrace  they  did  awhile  remain; 
Then  parted,  pledging  oft  to  meet  again. 

LXXX. 

ANSELMO  mused  on  all  the  Minstrel  sung; 

He  mourned  the  sadness  of  fair  Julia's  fate; 
While  o'er  his  spirit,  like  a  dark  cloud  hung 

A  feeling  of  disgust  and  mingled  hate, 
Towards  the  perfidious  Juan.  War's  clarion  rung 

Its  changes  on  his  ear  till  it  grew  late. 
He  thought  of  Man's  unnumbered  woes, — and  wept; 
He  thought  of  God's  unbounded  love, — and  slept. 


ANSELMO. 


CANTO     FOURTH. 

i. 
GLIDE  on,  thou  viewless  tide,  resistless  Time ; 

Flow  ceaseless  on,  deep,  silent,  bridgeless  stream; 
Sweeping  ever  on  to  that  mysterious  clime, — 

Alike  the  mighty  works  and  fleeting  dreams 
Of  bouyant  youth  and  manhood 's  noblest  prime, 

Where  dark  oblivion,  undisturbed  by  beams 
Of  burning  suns,  or  passion's  humid  light, 
Lulls  souls  to  rest  in  dreamless  realms  of  night. 

n. 
The  eye,  whose  piercing  gaze,  with  subtle  glance, 

Scans  boldly  the  expanse  of  earth  and  heaven, 
Hath  never  seen  Thee!  Nor  thy  mystic  dance 

Been  by  the  delicate  ear,  to  which  is  given 
Exquisite  sound,  detected!  Thy  still  advance 

Over  hosts  of  human  hearts,  by  anguish  riven, 
And  crumbling  empires,  is  more  silent  far, 
Than  faint  rays  falling  from  the  loftiest  star. 


ANSELMO.  99 

ill. 
Nor  human  skill,  whose  genius  spans  with  ease 

Broad  rivers, — and  with  winged  ships  and  steam, 
Bridges  the  rolling  depths  of  ancient  seas, 

And  makes  the  distant  shores  of  Ocean  seem 
So  near — a  shallop  in  a  morning  breeze 

Might  waft  across  the  Atlantic's  trackless  stream, — 
Hath  ever  spanned  thy  tide  of  woe  and  bliss; 
Or  pierced  the  depths  of  thy  profound  abyss. 

IV. 

Oh,  bear  me  onward  to  my  destiny; 

My  sad  soul  flutters  like  a  weary  bird; 
Corroding  thoughts  on  my  lorn  spirit  prey; 

My  heart  grows  sick  with  hope  too  long  deferred; 
Fancies  of  youth  are  fading  fast  away, 

And  young  love  's  dream  appears  a  vision  blurred: 
Ah,  whither  shall  I  roam?    What  charm  dispel 
The  cloud  which  veils  from  me  my  ISABEL? 

v. 

Sweet  memories,  o'er  my  gloomy  spirit  shine; 

Bring  back  the  fragrance  of  love's  balmy  breeze, 
When  in  her  smile,  so  radiant  and  divine, 

My  soul  exulted!     On  passion's  stormy  seas, 
Where  hopes  are  wrecked,  desires  oft  decline, 

We  hailed  in  signs  of  love's  sublime  degrees: 
Each  found  a  haven  in  the  other's  heart, — 

Moorings  more  safe  than  rituals  impart. 
I 


100  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

VI. 
Hope  sprang  not  full  fledged  from  the  eternal  sire; 

Nor  sang  with  morning  stars  at  the  creation: 
Her  light  burns  not  with  that  Promethean  fire, 

Which  soars  divinely  from  each  dire  prostration. 
Hope  is  the  wanton  offspring  of  desire, 

Warmed  into  life  by  fulsome  expectation: 
Earth-born,  Time  bounds  the  circle  of  its  flight; 
Death  seals  the  visions  of  her  seerful  sight. 

VII. 

In  life 's  bland  morn,  Hope  lingereth  by  the  side 
Of  trustful  youth,  with  smiles  of  seeming  joy; 

Sheddeth  soft  halo  over  Time 's  dark  tide ; 
With  golden  hues  infuseth  dull  alloy; 

Tinge th  with  glory  passion's  bliss  and  pride, 
Bubbles  of  beauty,  faintest  sighs  destroy; 

Then  leaves  the  tyro  midst  increasing  cares, 

To  rise  and  wing  his  flight  of  future  years. 

VIII. 

In  the  full  glow  of  life 's  unclouded  noon, 
With  firmer  footstep  and  exalted  mien, 

Manhood  surmounts  Time's  towering  £teep,  and  soon 
Scans  the  wide  world  with  confidence  serene, 

Till  gathering  clouds  obscure  sun,  stars  and  moon, — 
Then  cometh  Hope  with  her  delusive  sheen, 

Luring  him  'midst  ambition's  bold,  dark  mountains, 

To  drink  deep  draughts  from  folly  's  bitter  fountains. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  101 

IX. 
When  deepening  shadows  lengthen  o'er  life's  strand, 

And  Age  doth  totter  with  the  weight  of  years, 
Slowly,  wearily  toward  the  spirit  land, 

Which  bounds  the  welkin  of  this  vale  of  tears, 
The  Pilgrim  lifts  his  staff  with  trembling  hand; — 

Steps  falteringly  arnid  more  darksome  fears: 
Expecting  Hope's  bland  smile  to  light  his  way, 
He  sinks  in  gloom  unriven  by  a  ray. 

x. 

Hope's  last  faint  glimmer  gone,  huge  shadows  dark, 
And  death-mists  the  lone  Pilgrim  overwhelm: 

See, — yonder  onward  sweeps  his  sea-worn  bark; 
He  droops  exhausted  o'er  the  guideless  helm; 

Black,  broken  waves,  emitting  not  one  spark, 

Fast-driving,  sweeps  him  to  that  unknown  realm, 

Where  dim  Fate  shrouds  each  solitary  guest; 

Whence  none  return  to  tell  us  they  are  blest. 

XT. 
Hope, — fond  illusion,  which  forever  hovereth 

Over  the  dark  and  devious  paths  of  mortals, 
Lighting  with  flickering  ray  the  shade  which  covereth 

Life's  everlasting  high  and  holy  portals; 
From  whose  soft  lures,  the  pilgrim  ne'er  recovereth, 

Till  death  reveals  the  land  of  the  immortals, 
On  the  far  side  of  that  dark,  rolling  river, 
Which  sweeps  away  all  human  hopes  forever. 


102  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XII. 
So  darkly  endeth  all  our  mortal  woes; 

Thus  all  our  earthly  joys  must  terminate ; 
The  way-worn  Pilgrim  only  finds  repose 

Through  Death's  indefinable  cloudy  gate: 
Faith,  hope,  love,  hate,  desert  him  as  he  goes 

Alone,  to  learn  his  own  mysterious  fate: 
Doth  Man  there  like  a  wandering  spirit  rave  ? 
Or  sleepeth  he  beneath  oblivion's  wave  ? 

XIII. 

Thus,  on  a  cloudless  summer  morn,  afar 
From  the  turmoil  of  human  habitations, 

Amidst  the  ruins  of  old  Panama, 

Where  Flora  wantons  with  blear  Desolation, — 

From  a  watch-tower,  whose  broken  front  might  mar 
Even  Melancholy's  evening  meditations, 

ANSELMO  mused,  as  with  intense  emotion, — 

Scanning  the  smooth  expanse  of  slumbering  Ocean, 

XIV. 

He  saw  a  gallant  ship,  like  an  outline, 

Drawn  by  some  Angel  hand  against  the  sky, 

Kise  on  the  far  horizon's  azure  line,   , 

With  swelling  sails  and  tall  masts  tapering  high; 

Saw  faces  glowing  with  a  hope  divine, — 
Hope,  full  of  promise  to  the  ear  and  eye: 

Heard  merry  voices  ring  with  grateful  glee, 

For  having  'scaped  the  dangers  of  the  sea. 


OFTHE  ^nn 

ANSEL  ^Ur.NI'V   ERS       103 


XV. 

Swiftly  a  huge  cloud  overcasts  the  sky; 

No  thunder  wakes  the  elements  to  war; 
One  bright  bolt  bursts  in  silence  from  on  high,  — 

Writhing  she  reels;  —  she  sinks!     Above  the  roar 
Of  billows  one  wail  breaks!    The  storm-clouds  fly 

Exultant  back  to  the  dark  stygian  shore: 
The  winds  were  hushed  :  the  waves  slept  dreamlessly, 
As  those  they  shrouded  in  the  deep  blue  sea. 

XVI. 

Oh,  'tis  a  mockery  all  —  this  thing  of  life; 

The  jest  of  Time  ;   the  sport  of  elements  ; 
Earth-born,  it  wasteth  with  perpetual  strife, 

The  soul  corrodes  itself  and  tenement; 
The  air  we  breath  with  atom  death  is  rife; 

Waters  quench  its  flames  with  taunting  merriment; 
Hope  trifles  with  the  savage  and  the  sage; 
Time  grinds  to  dust  mankind  in  every  age. 

XVII. 

A  biting  jester  was  that  Hebrew  Seer, 

Who  saw  the  image  of  the  God-head  shine 

On  the  pale  brows  of  that  fond  mortal  pair, 
Who  dwelt  in  Eden  of  the  auld  lang  syne: 

Eternal  glories  crown  a  thing  of  air  ? 
Base  metal  coined  with  a  stamp  divine  ? 

He  proved  Life's  jest;  —  on  Jordan's  desert  side, 

From  Nebo  saw  the  promised  land  —  and  died. 
I* 


104  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XVIII. 
While  yet  strange  shadows  cloud  ANSELMO'S  brow; 

Unconsciously  he  hastens  to  the  strand; 
In  fancy  sees  the  brave  bark's  looming  prow; — 

Still  hears  the  voices  of  that  silent  band ; 
He  waits  to  join  them  in  their  grateful  vow 

To  Him,  who  sways  the  sea  and  rules  the  land: — 
A  mirage  of  the  brain's  unrestful  sleep ; — 
A  myth  of  echoes  from  the  voiceless  deep. 

XIX. 

His  anxious  gaze,  fixed  on  the  horizon's  verge, 
Scanneth  the  line  which  boundeth  sea  and  skies; 

He  listens  mutely  to  the  breaking  surge, 
As  on  the  sandy  shore  it  faintly  dies. 

Soft  are  the  notes  of  Ocean's  funeral  dirge, — 
As  echoes  which  the  murmuring  sea-shell  sighs; 

And  light  as  beauty,  calm  as  heaven  the  wave, 

Which  shrouds  the  shipwrecked  in  their  ocean  grave. 

xx. 

White  winged  bird  of  Ocean,  thou  art  gone ! 

Lone  wanderer  over  many  a  lonely  sea; 
No  more  thy  gallant  prow  shall  greeMhe  dawn; 
All  latitudes  are  now  alike  to  thee; 
Thy  longitude  is  run  I     The  waves  have  borne 

Thee  home, — with  thy  broad  pinions  fluttering  free! 
Farewell:  no  storm  shall  touch  thee  with  emotion; 
Rest  in  the  bosom  of  thine  own  loved  Ocean. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  O  .  105 

XXI. 
Thus  pass  the  brave  and  beautiful  away 

To  that  dim,  silent,  shadowy  region,  where 
The  sickly  beams  of  labor-loving  day 

Light  no  false  hopes  to  vanish  in  despair. 
Sweet  solitude!     There  human  agony 

Is  hushed!  Tranquillity  reigns  ever  there! 
Dark  Hades!  in  thy  quietude  so  blest, 
Each  weary  mortal  is  a  welcome  guest. 

XXII. 

Around  a  rock's  rude  point,  hard  by  the  shore, 
Swift  as  an  arrow  from  the  elastic  bow, 

A  light  canoe,  with  palm  leaves  covered  o'er, 
Moved  beachward,  softly  as  a  flake  of  snow: 

In  haste,  four  maskers  from  the  shallop  bore, 
Wrapt  in  the  dark  habiliments  of  woe, 

A  seeming  slumberer  in  their  sturdy  arms, 

Whose  form  betrays  a  thousand  hidden  charms. 

XXIII. 

Her  half-veiled  neck  with  dimpling  beauties  fraught, 
A  snow-wreath  blooming  with  the  warmth  of  blushes ; 

An  ivory  pillow  tastefully  inwrought 

With  rose-tint  pearl,  shows  that  life's  current  gushes 

In  thread-like  streams,  as  delicate  as  thought, 
When  first  love's  fancy  in  confusion  rushes 

Over  the  young  brow,  radiant  as  morn, 

And  chaste  as  cloudlets  floating  in  the  dawn. 


106  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XXIV. 
One  raven-ringlet  from  her  tresses  straying, — 

A  sisterhood  enravishingly  fair, 
Adown  her  neck  was  innocently  playing 

In  charrnful  circles  with  the  wanton  air. 
When  Cupid  fain  would  conquer  by  delaying, 

His  labyrinthic  castle  is  the  hair, 
Whence  he  lets  fly  full  many  a  wounding  dart, 
Till  he  doth  capture  the  rebellious  heart. 

XXV. 

ANSELMO,  starting  from  his  musing  mood, 

Gazed  with  surprise  on  this  mysterious  scene: 

Conflicting  passions  kindled  in  his  blood; 

Dark  shadows  flitted  thwart  his  brow  serene; 

Hope,  fear,  revenge,  in  a  tumultuous  flood, 

Burst  from  his  heart  as  though  they  long  had  been 

Imprisoned  there:  so  mountain  torrents  flow, 

When  summer  suns  dissolve  their  hoarded  snow. 

XXVI. 

He  sees  before  him  now  his  cherished  bride; — 
The  long-lost  Idol  of  his  mournful  soul ; 

Now  feels  within  his  bosom  gently  gfide, 

Like  sunbeams  when  the  morning  mists  uproll, 

The  gallant  spirits  of  his  youthful  pride, 

Charming  his  passions  to  their  fond  control: 

Love  beams  refulgent  from  his  humid  eyes; 

Smiles  light  his  brow;  his  heart  dissolves  in  sighs. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  O  .  107 

XXVII. 

While  gazing  thus,  some  spark  of  hallowed  fire 
Touched  her  pale  lips,  relumed  her  languid  eyes; 

She  bent  on  him  one  glance  of  soft  desire; — 
His  doubts  dispel, — despair,  defeated  flies; 

Love's  gushing  tides  flow  deeper,  broader,  higher, 
Full  as  the  ocean,  boundless  as  the  skies: 

His  soul  expandeth  with  the  potent  charm, 

An  Angel's  power  nerves  his  single  arm. 

XXVIII. 

One  effort  sets  the  lovely  prisoner  free ; 

He  boldly  bids  the  unknown  tyrants  draw; 
From  hidden  scabbards,  with  celerity, 

Four  shining  blades  leapt  forth:  unmoved  he  saw, 
Nor  did  repent  his  own  temerity; — 

Nor  would  he,  had  there  been  as  many  more : 
He  dreads  no  fiend,  he  fears  no  power  above, 
Whose  heart  throbs  with  the  high  impulse  of  love. 

XXIX. 

His  foot  he  firmly  planted  on  the  ground, 
With  the  assurance  faith  and  love  impart: 

His  well  aimed  blow  right  through  the  corselet  found 
Of  the  first  masker,  entrance  to  his  heart; 

Leaping  in  air  with  a  convulsive  bound, 
His  craven  spirit  swiftly  did  depart 

From  its  base  consort,  and  with  deep  remorse, 

Bequeathed  to  earth  another  mouldering  corse: 


108  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XXX. 

And  as  the  lifeless  trunk  rolled  on  the  shore, 
A  broken  mask  presented  to  the  sight, 

The  face  of  Bolus  who  long  while  before, 

At  Juan's  command,  led  Julia  from  the  light 

Of  life  and  love, — did  cruelly  immure 

Her  in  dark  cells  of  soul-corroding  night: — 

His  base-born  spirit,  with  the  swift  descent 

Of  ponderous  guilt,  to  Tophct  downward  went. 

XXXI. 

Scorning  at  first  advantage  of  the  foe 

Who  boldly  bade  them  all  at  once,  come  on; 

Now,  when  they  saw  him  lay  their  comrade  low, 
Their  ire  well  nigh  their  courtesy  had  won: 

Their  second  champion  parried  a  fearful  blow, — 
Then  gave  a  thrust  which  well  its  work  had  done, 

But  that  ANSFLMO  saw  the  aim  he  took, — 

And  seeing,  bent  aside,  and  shunned  the  stroke. 

XXXII. 

Now  foot  to  foot  the  combat  they  renew; 

Their  strokes  less  art  than  furiousness  betray; 
Shame  that  each  steel  did  not  its  duty  do, 

Kindleth  in  both  resentment  and  dismay; — 
Their  blades  were  never  wont  to  prove  untrue, — 

Each  fears  a  moment  he  may  lose  the  day: 
Full  soon  each  brings  his  spirit  in  command, 
And  wields  his  weapon  with  a  master's  hand. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  109 

XXXIII. 
The  masker  had  the  vantage  of  his  foe, 

In  that,  unseen,  he  saw  ANSELMO'S  face; 
Skill,  strength,  revenge  were  stamped  on  every  blow, 

As  one  who  ancient  memories  would  efface : 
But  when  he  saw  his  own  blood  freely  flow, 

With  rage  he  shook,  grew  furious  with  disgrace, 
And  madly  strove  by  fierceness  and  by  fraud, 
In  his  brave  foe  to  sheathe  his  murderous  sword. 

xxxiv. 
As  the  wild  boar  by  Carib  lances  wounded, 

Turns  on  his  fell  pursuers  with  defiance; 
Foaming  with  rage,  by  wound  on  wound  astounded, 

Bites  the  dull  earth,  with  death  seeks  grim  affiance, 
So  were  the  masker  '&  blows, — his  wrath  unbounded, 

Despair  destroyed  the  art  of  their  appliance: 
ANSELMO  struck  a  direful  stroke, — the  head 
And  spirit  of  his  foe  together  fled. 

xxxv. 

The  gory  head  rolled  on  the  sandy  plain; 

The  face,  distorted  with  fierce  passion,  seemed 
To  darken  with  the  agony  of  pain, 

And  with  the  glare  of  bitter  vengeance  gleamed, — 
A  map  combining  every  guilty  stain 

Of  which  a  base  assassin  ever  dreamed: 
In  heart,  coyote;  in  spirit,  a  hyena, 
Down  rushed  Kaznoe  to  his  own  place — Gehenna. 


110  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XXXVI. 

No  longer  the  survivors  would  refrain 
From  joint  combat  with  their  adversary, 

Who,  single-handed  had  their  comrades  slain, — 
Their  courtesy  no  more  their  fear  would  carry: 

His  prowess  they  admire,  still  both  disdain 
To  yield  unconquered ;    or,  let  conquest  tarry , 

Till  one  by  one,  his  triumph  they  forestall, 

Or  like  their  comrades  in  the  conflict  fall. 

XXXVII. 

But  ere  they  rush  to  blows,  this  parley,  brief, 
Gave  to  ANSELMO  a  few  moments  rest: 

Whence,  comes  thy  phrenzy,  stranger?    Is  it  grief? 
Or  sits  despair  enthroned  within  thy  breast  ? 

In  carnage  surely  love  finds  no  relief; 
Desist  the  unequal  combat,  and  be  blest: 

Earth  hath  no  surplus  of  the  brave  and  good, 

That  thou  shouldst  recklessly  thus  shed  thy  blood. 

XXXVIII. 

To  whom,  ANSELMO:    Senores,  life  to  me, 
Dawned  soft  and  beautiful  as  opening  day; 

My  youth  was  a  delightful  reverie,  * 
Blending  the  subtle,  unrefractive  ray 

Of  lofty  science  with  the  imagery 

Of  plastic  fancy — fondly  fair  and  gay; — 

Rich  and  transparent  as  yon  cloudlets  seem 

Floating  in  light,  dissolving  in  a  gleam. 


ANSEL  MO  .  Ill 

XXXIX; 

As  zephyrs  wafting  through  Losario's  grove, 
Inhale  the  fragrance  their  light  pinions  shed, 

When  at  the  eventide  they  wanton  rove,. 

Amid  yon  Isles  with  fadeless  bloom  o'erspread, — 

So,  then  I  felt  the  balmy  breath  of  love 

O'er  all  my  passions,  thoughts  and  feelings  spread , 

Pure  as  the  halo  of  a  morning  dream, — 

Voluptuous  as  Elysia's  rosy  stream. 

XL. 

Earth  hath  no  scene  so  fair,  mists  may  not  mar; 

Earth's  brightest  hopes  fade  like  the  fallen  leaf; 
Dark  clouds  obscured  my  spirit's  guiding  star; 

I  drank  the  gall  and  wormwood  of  grief: 
I  wandered  many  a  moon — I  wandered  far, 

Nor  change,  nor  time  gave  my  sad  heart  relief: 
The  past,  the  future  mingle  in  this  hour, — 
My  love  lies  shrouded  in  yon  bruised  flower. 

XLI. 
Unworthy  yonder  Chief  of  swords  so  true : 

He  won  by  stealth  the  gem  he  holds  by  force ; 
He  dares  dark  deeds,  he  yet  shall  live  to  rue ; 

Death's  racking  pangs  were  joy  to  his  remorse; 
And  ye,  who  nerve  his  arm,  alike  imbue 

Your  souls  in  guilt, — Is  this  your  sole  resource 
For  bread?    Noble  Senores  !     Aim  well;   strike  sure; 
Else  soon  ye  wander  on  death's  shadowy  shore. 
J 


112  AN  S  E  L  M  0. 

xtit. 
Full  soon  the  combat  fiercely  is  renewed ; 

Their  swords  out-gleam  the  sun's  unclouded  light; 
The  clashing  steel,  impurplingly  imbrued, 

Startles  the  slumbering  air  with  pr.le  affright; 
Love's  hero  never  yet  hath  been  subdued; 

Love  arms  her  champions  with  resistless  might; 
Alike  fair  Helen  and  immortal  Jove, 
Proclaim  thy  majesty  all-conquering  love! 

XLIII. 
ANSELMO  watcheth  well  his  wary  foes; 

With  skill  and  grace  he  guides  his  good  right  hand; 
Each  thrust,  each  parry  to  them  plainly  shows, 

A  master 's  art  directs  his  dripping  brand, 
Anon,  he  wardeth  off  their  double  blows; — 

Now  strikes, — and  now  retires  upon  the  strand; — 
Then  fiercely  makes  on  them  a  furious  charge, 
Which  both  their  anger  and  their  wounds  enlarge. 

XLIV. 
Back  to  the  boat  the  Bishop  bore  his  prize, 

And  left  her  there  in  charge  of  trusty  slaves, — • 
For  in  this  strange  and  soldier-like  disguise, 

Was  the  young  Bishop  Juan: — so  lust  depraves 
The  noblest  of  our  race :  his  glistening  eyes, 

Like  sunbeams  glowing  on  the  glittering  waves, 
Gloat  like  an  amateur's  on  the  strife, 
Disporting  fatally  with  human  life. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  113 

XLV. 

He  gazed  upon  the  conflict  with  delight; 

His  presence  with  more  zeal  his  friends  inspire; 
ANSELMO  grew  heroic  in  his  sight, — 

His  art  sublime — his  execution  dire  : 
Nor  till  the  third  fell  in  the  fearful  fight,^- 

Nor  till  the  fourth  was  ready  to  expire, 
Did  Juan  draw  forth  his  burnished  blade  to  quell, 
This  stranger  champion  of  fair  ISABEL. 

XLVI. 
Now  face  to  face  the  rivals  proudly  stand; 

Each  greets  the  other's  gaze  with  withering  smile; 
Anon,  their  blows  ring  out  from  hand  to  hand; 

Each  strives  by  art  the  other  to  beguile: 
Now  forward  bent — now  kneeling  on  the  sand; 

Impurpling  dews  their  glittering  steels  defile; 
Then  back  a  pace  each  from  his  foe  retires ; 
While  each  the  other's  skill  and  strength  admires. 

XLVII. 
Kespite  renewed  their  strength  and  their  offense; 

Long  while  they  fought — weary  and  faint  they  fought ; 
Alike  in  the  attack  and  the  defense, 

Less  force  than  art  is  to  the  contest  brought: 
Meanwhile  fair  victory  fluttered  in  suspense, 

Doubted  by  both — by  both  devoutly  sought; 
While  thus  the  exhausting  combat  they  sustain, 
A  cavalier  comes  sweeping  o'er  the  plain: 


114  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XLVIII. 

Onward  he  comes — by  all  but  one  unseen — 
The  trusty  slave  who  keepeth  watch  and  ward, 

He  knew  the  horsemen  by  his  gallant  mien, — 

His  light-foot  steed  scarce  touching  the  green  sward; 

His  white  sT>mbrero  with  its  plume  of  green — 
His  red  serapo  flowing  all  abroad: 

He  knew  it  was  his  master's  bitterest  foe, 

The  bold  and  daring  mountain  chief, — Pedro. 

XLIX. 
And  though  he  knew  the  Bishop  would  delight 

In  single  combat  with  this  far-famed  chief; 
He  wisely  judged  that  in  his  present  plight, 

He  had  less  need  of  foes  than  of  relief: 
With  wary  step, — while  tottering  in  the  fight, 

Suiting  the  action  to  his  message  brief, 
He  cried,  beware!  and  round  his  master  threw 
His  arms,  and  bore  him  off  to  the  canoe. 

L. 
Scarce  had  he  pushed  the  shallop  from  the  shore, 

When  Don  Pedro  dashed  in  the  foaming  wave; 
His  sabre  circling  high  in  air, — he  swore, 

The  surf  should  be  the  priestly-soldier's  grave: 
The  oath  was  lost  in  air, — a  moment  more, 

The  surge  receding  bore  the  Bishop,  brave, 
Beyond  the  reach  of  his  fierce  adversary: 
The  shallop  was  his  fort  and  sanctuary. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  O  .  115 

LI. 
And  little  did  he  reck  for  many  days 

And  many  weary  nights  his  dangerous  state; 
Nor  did  his  lips  accuse,  nor  did  they  praise 

The  good,  or  evil  of  his  passing  state: 
Alike,  amidst  the  glow  of  fever's  rays, 

And  the  dense  mist  of  passion  and  of  hate, 
He  calmly  waited  the  returning  hour, 
Of  wonted  healthfulness  and  conscious  power. 

LII. 
Meanwhile,  ANSELMO,  weary,  bleeding,  faint, 

Sank  on  one  knee  upon  the  sanguine  sand; 
Leaned  on  his  sword,  as  calmly  as  a  saint, 

Awaits  his  summons  to  the  heavenly  land. 
He  did  not  move,  nor  did  he  make  complaint; 

He  was  too  faint  to  speak,  too  weak  to  stand: 
He  made  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
And  kept  the  field — a  proud  felicity. 

LIII. 
And  long  as  victor  would  have  kept  the  field; 

Have  sealed  his  triumph  with  his  latest  breath; 
Have  crowned  the  conquest  which  he  would  not  yield, 

By  grim  alliance  with  resistless  death: 
Have  left  earth's  wrongful  judgment  unrepealed; 

His  name  and  honor  things  of  fleeting  breath; 
But  that  Don  Pedro  kindly  took  him  thence, 
To  his  own  mountain  refuge  and  defense. 


116  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LIV. 

Far  up  the  craggy  steeps,  where  foot  of  man 
Seldom  hath  prest  the  light  and  crumbling  soil, 

On  a  rude,  rustic  willow-wreathed  sedan, 
With  careful  step  and  hours  of  weary  toil, 

Two  faithful  veterans  of  Don  Pedro's  clan, 
Unurged  by  bribes,  or  hope  of  victor's  spoil, 

Bore  their  unconscious  burden  to  a  grove, 

Where  peace  and  joy  might  ever  dwell  with  love. 

LV. 
The  reverend  palms  lift  up  their  heads  on  high, 

With  the  calm  bliss  of  conscious  inspiration; 
Their  boughs  umbrageous  breathe  a  gentle  sigh, 

As  they  behold,  with  chastened  admiration, 
Their  deep  green  shadows  mingling  with  the  sky, 

Its  lights  and  shades  in  beauteous  variation; 
A  living  picture  set  in  softened  glow, 
Reflected  from  the  placid  lake  below. 

XVI. 

The  grass  crept  softly  down  the  flowery  glade, 
To  deck  its  margin  with  a  fringe  of  green; 

The  graceful  lily  sweet  obeisance  made, 
Laving  her  fair  cheek  in  the  liquid  sheen: 

The  rose,  a  tribute  of  affection  paid, 

With  vestal  beauty,  blooming  and  serene, 

Bent  from  her  wild-briar  down,  as  from  a  throne, 

And  kissed  the  Lake  with  passion  Love  might  own. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0.  117 

LVII. 

Even  the  rocks  were  dutiful:   they  seemed 
To  greet  the  sportive  wavelets  with  delight, 

Clad  in  moss  velvet  wherein  violets  beamed, 
Like  stars  in  the  soft  azure  depths  of  night, 

Their  grave  and  meditative  features  gleamed 
With  softer  radiance  in  her  liquid  light: 

A  sacred  grotto  like  a  sanctuary, 

Forming  a  solitude  not  solitary. 

LVII. 
A  solitude  made  vocal  with  the  lays 

Of  birds,  of  fairest  hue  and  richest  tone, 
Where  tuneful  echo  on  her  lyre  plays 

Their  various  notes  as  if  they  were  her  own; 
Where  silence  murmurs  with  melodious  praise, 

And  lonely  pensiveness  is  not  alone: 
A  quietude  where  loving  spirits  throng, 
The  hours  of  peaceful  pleasure  to  prolong. 

LIX. 
This  was  the  sanctuary  of  a  sage, 

Who  humbly  sought  communion  with  the  blest: 
No  earthly  balm  can  bitter  grief  assuage; 

No  cordial  lull  the  troubled  soul  to  rest; 
His  flowing  locks  were  silvered  o'er  with  age, 

His  beard  in  ample  folds  fell  on  his  breast; 
His  brow  was  calm,  his  large  dark  eye  serene, 
His  form  erect  and  dignified  his  mien. 


118  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LX. 
Devotion  wafted  all  his  thoughts  on  high! 

At  morn,  communing  with  the  holy  spirit, 
Entranced,  he  saw,  with  faith-illumined  eye, 

The  glorious  mansions,  which  the  saints  inherit: 
Unchallenged  passed  the  portals  of  the  sky, 

And  walked  the  empyrean  like  a  spirit; 
Resting  at  eve,  where  light  immortal  shone, 
He,  with  the  Elders,  bowed  before  the  throne. 

LXI. 
There  was  a  partner  of  his  solitude ; 

The  only  tie  which  bound  his  soul  to  earth; 
The  image  of  her  whom  he  early  wooed, 

Whose  life  was  forfeit  to  her  first-born's  birth ; 
A  daughter  blooming  into  womanhood, 

Her  beauty  the  fair  index  of  her  worth; 
Fair  as  a  blossom  on  a  crystal  stream; — 
No  care  had  yet  disturbed  her  young  life's  dream, 

LXII. 
And  oh,  how  beautiful!  Her  golden  hair, 

Waving  in  sunlight  paled  its  richest  beams; 
Than  driven  snow,  her  marble  brow  more  fair, 

Her  soft  blue  eyes  with  love's  pure  starlight  gleams; 
Her  smile  with  beauty  lights  the  ambient  air; — 

Lovely,  as  those  who  visit  us  in  dreams; 
The  warm  blush  on  her  cheek  more  rich  than  wine, 
More  delicate  than  lilies,  pure,  divine. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  119 

LXIII. 

Leila  was  happy  in  her  mountain  home ! 

Her  chief  delight,  her  cherished  filial  love ; 
She  had  no  wish  in  the  gay  world  to  roam; 

She  knew  each  bird  arid  flower  in  all  the  grove; 
And  when  she  gazed  up  in  the  starry  dome, 

Saw  sister-angels  smiling  from  above: 
Heard  the  seraphic  songs  which  grace  inspire; — 
And  sighing,  yearned  to  join  the  heavenly  choir. 

LXIV. 
Happy  as  beautiful!     She  did  not  dream 

A  true,  pure  heart  could  glow  with  passion's  flame; 
A  crystal  fount  send  forth  a  turbid  stream; 

A  holy  sympathy  awaken  shame ; 
That  the  bright  sun  had  shone  with  lurid  gleam; 

That  from  shekina  clouds  of  darkness  came: — 
That  on  the  altar  of  the  heart  in  turn, 
All  hopes  may  kindle  and  all  passions  burn. 

LXV. 
When  first  she  saw  ANSELMO,  weary,  faint; 

Alike  unconscious  of  his  friends  and  fate ; 
Sweet  pity  freed  her  bosom  from  restraint; 

She  joined  her  sire  to  soothe  his  hapless  state: 
Full  many  an  anxious  hour,  without  complaint, 

Alone,  o'er  the  scarce  breathing  youth,  she  sate, 
Watching  the  sufferer  with  more  tender  care, 
His  life  became  the  burthen  of  her  prayer! 


120  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LXVI. 

The  unvibrating  beam  of  poising  time, 

Long  while  'twixt  life  and  death  its  balance  held; 
No  struggling  groan  with  inharmonious  chime, 

Fell  from  ANSELMO'S  lips;  no  eye  beheld 
A  gesture  of  impatience ;  calm,  sublime, 

The  union  pain  with  quietude  did  weld: 
His  life  hung  trembling  on  a  broken  breath, 
As  o'er  a  fount  a  vapor  quivereth! 

LXVII. 
Twas  morn:   upon  his  cold  and  pallid  face, 

A  tremulous  gleam  of  golden  sunlight  fell; 
In  its  chaste  glow,  the  eye  of  love  did  trace 

An  Angel  breaking  death's  mysterious  spell: 
Her  prayers  attest  her  trust  in  heavenly  grace, — 

Tumultuous  passions  in  her  bosom  swell: 
In  gratitude  for  health's  returning  bliss, 
Fair  Leila  on  his  brow  imprest  a  kiss. 

LXVIII. 
The  kiss  of  love,  the  fount  of  health  unsealeth; 

ANSELMO  owned  its  touch  of  quickening  power; 
A  warm  flush  o'er  his  features  softly 'stealeth; — 

Each  moment  seemeth  like  a  lingering  hour; 
Is  it  an  Angel's  form  the  light  revealeth, 

Now  bending  o'er  him  like  a  drooping  flower  ? 
Over  her  young  heart's  firmament — her  face — 
Love's  blushing  borealis  he  doth  trace. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  121 

LIX. 

A  flush  was  on  her  cheeks :   her  thoughts  withdrew 
From  lake,  and  trees,  and  flowers:    alas,  she  felt, 

That  in  the  Eden  of  her  spirit  grew 

A  passion,  to  which  all  her  passions  knelt! 

May  not  one  cherished  thought  the  soul  imbue  ? 
One  vivid  spark  the  purest  diamond  melt  ? 

She  felt  her  breast  dissolving  in  a  flame, 

Yet  knew  not  what  it  was,  or  whence  it  came. 

LXX. 
How  brief  the  hours, — how  rapid  in  their  flight — 

When  borne  on  rosy  love's  expanding  wing? 
We  scarcely  sip  the  nectar  of  delight, 

Ere  we  anticipate  the  serpent's  sting: 
Fast  fades  the  bloom  of  beauty  in  dim  night, — 

And  keenest  pangs  from  richest  pleasures  spring: 
So  sitting  by  the  grave  ANSELMO'S  side, 
The  pensive  Leila  mused  at  even-tide 

LXXI. 

Too  sad  for  thee  this  tranquil  sunset  scene! 

ANSELMO,  go;  we  must  not  linger  here: 
Dark  shadows  of  the  future  flit  between 

Us!  Dost  thou  not  see  them?    Hist  thee!    Nor  hear 
Their  mimic  chatterings  in  yon  ivy-green? 

Their  tiny  wings  beat  on  the  ambient  air! 
Ah,  me,  the  fancies  which  our  childhood  trace, 
No  lore  illumes;  no  time  can  e'er  efface. 


122  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LXXII. 

Hearest  thou  not,  ANSELMO?  Go  away; 

The  evening  shadows  soon  will  gather  round: 
Thou  dost  enjoy  the  smile  of  opening  day, 

More  than  the  richest  sunsets  ever  found: 
Morn  rouses  man  from  sleep's  dull  roundelay, 

To  fight  life's  battle  till  death's  trump  shall  sound: 
The  gorgeous  clouds  of  yonder  burnished  West, 
To  my  lorn  heart  are  Day's  funereal  vest. 

LXXIII. 
Go,  dear  ANSELMO;  leave  me  here,  forlorn: 

The  pensive  beauty  of  this  hour  doth  wake 
Sweet  thoughts  of  immortality!  Thus  upborne, 

I  love, — yet  live !    Can  love  our  being  take  ? 
Has  thou  not  said,  at  eve  and  rosy  morn, 

As  oft  we  lingered  by  this  placid  lake, 
That  like  this  mountain  daughter  of  the  Ocean, 
Pure  hearts  responsive  throb  with  love's  emotion? 

LXXIV. 
Thou  art  not  free  to  love:    still  thou  art  free: 

Go!  Pray  that  my  reverened  sire  meet  me  here: 
The  world  awaits  thee :   oh,  I  fain  would  be 

Thy  slave!  vain  wish, — alas,  this  gushing  tear 
Attests  my  weakness !     Thou  canst'not  love  me ! 

My  frail  fond  heart,  say,  wherefore  dost  thou  fear? 
Go!  And  when  morn  salutes  thy  loving  eyes, 
My  soul  shall  be  as  tranquil  as  the  skies. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0.  123 

LXXV. 

Is  that  an  angel  band  I  see  descending? 

My  home  immortal  is  on  yon  bright  shore ! 
Like  yonder  clouds  with  brighter  hues  ascending, 

Oh,  let  my  lingering  thoughts  divinely  soar! 
And  like  yon  brilliant  bow  of  promise  bending, 

Oh,  let  me  bow  to  Him  I  should  adore! 
Adios,  Laguna* — flowers — birds  and  grove; 
Your  Leila  fainteth  with  excess  of  love. 

LXXVI. 
Kneeling  !     Alone  !     She  lifts  her  eyes  to  heaven ; 

Her  lily  hands  are  folded  on  her  breast; 
Her  face  gleams  with  the  various  hues  of  even, 

Sublime  in  its  emotions  and  its  rest; 
As  if  some  youthful  angel's  kiss  had  given 

It  all  the  finest  features  of  the  blest: 
Her  rose-bud  lips,  like  opening  flowers  above, 
Dispart  with  softest  harmonies  of  love. 

LXXVII. 
Through  all  the  grove  deep  silence  reigned  awhile — 

Deep  as  when  death's  dark  angel  lingereth  nigh: 
Her  gentle  heart  had  broken  !     Still  the  smile 

Of  love  was  on  her  lips  !     So  calm  her  eye, 
Beauty  in  slumber  could  not  more  beguile! 

Her  spirit  wafted  heavenward  on  a  sigh! 
The  sage  restrains  his  tears — the  father  groans — 

The  silence  breaks — the  grove  responsive  moans. 
K 


ANSELMO. 


CANTO     FIFTH. 

i. 
Beneath  the  branches  of  a  princely  palm, 

ANSELMO  sought  the  shadow  of  a  rock, 
Whose  time-worn  summit,  midst  all  changes  calm, 

Gave  shelter  to  the  shepherd  and  his  flock; 
From  whose  chaste  granite  breasts  a  liquid  balm, 

Like  dew-drops,  oozed  softly  down  to  mock, 
With  humid  air  and  gentle  pattering, 
The  murmuring  music  of  a  bubbling  spring. 

ii. 
Prone  on  the  springing  streamlet's,  velveting 

Of  yielding  grasses  and  convolving  flowers, 
With  many  mingling  vernal  sweets,  exhaling 

A  perfume  potent  with  dissolving  powers, 
He  listened  to  the  plaintive  caroling 

Of  beauteous  birds,  until  the  morning  hours 
Had  passed  the  glowing  point  of  culmination, 
When  noon-tide  pants  for  evening  recreation. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0.  125 

III. 
Here  slumber  in  the  halo  of  a  dream, 

Relumed  soft  memories  with  a  holier  light; 
Once  more  he  lingered  by  the  silvery  stream 

With  her  whose  smile  made  all  his  boyhood  bright. 
He  sighed — "Oh,  that  I  were  the  sage  I  seem; 

Cold — calm  and  confident  when  in  the  sight 
Of  the  world's  busy  multitude,  who  feel 
That  gold  doth  temper  human  hearts  with  steel 

IV. 

There  is  a  tone — a  silvery  tone  of  love, 
Whose  charmful  intonations  on  the  heart 

Of  youth,  vibrates  accordant  as  above, 
Angelic  numbers  harmonies  dispart; 

And  though  long  years  through  varied  climes  he  roves, 
Its  warbling  echoes  evermore  impart 

Those  symphonies  in  which  true  hearts  rejoice — 

It  is  the  melody  of  girlhood's  voice. 

v. 

There  is  a  tone  so  full,  so  rich,  so  deep, 
So  fraught  with  all  that  music  can  inspire, 

That  its  soft  cadence  makes  the  miser  weep; 
Kindleth  in  frost-bound  hearts  poetic  fire; 

Lulleth  the  maniac  to  dreamful  sleep; 

Lureth  young  seraphs  from  the  heavenly  choir, 

To  tune  their  golden  harps  at  her  fair  shrine — 

'Tis  woman's  voice  enriched  by  love  divine. 


126  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

VI. 

There  is  a  beauty  in  the  vestal  rose, 

Gracing  the  forest,  on  its  sweet  wild-brier; 

So  chastely  delicate  in  its  repose, 
Man  gazeth  on  it  only  to  admire; 

Delicious  fragrance  from  its  petals  flows, 
Inspiring  bliss,  repressing  warm  desire — 

So  beautiful  and  with  such  virgin  grace, 

Sweet  girlhood  charms  the  boldest  of  our  race. 

VII. 

There  is  a  beauty  in  the  full-blown  rose, 

Reigning  resplendent  as  the  queen  of  flowers; 

Each  beauteous  leaf  with  warmer  blushes  glows, 
And  richer  perfumes  fill  her  fragrant  bowers; 

Graceful  in  port,  voluptuous  in  repose, 

None  may  dispute  her  right  to  regal  powers: 

So  beautiful,  so  rightful  the  proud  sway 

Of  lovely  woman  in  maturity. 

VIII. 

Beauty  sequestered  in  the  flowery  vale, 

Is  strong  in  her  serene  obscurity; 
Shielded  by  mountains  from  the  ruder  gale, 

Bloometh  sweetly-sportive  to  maturity; 
Shakes  every  reef  from  out  love's  silken  sail, 

Glides  down  life's  stream  in  fond  security; 
Nor  heeds  the  change  of  wind,  nor  turn  of  tide, 
One  loving  pilot  is  her  only  guide. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  127 

IX. 
Beauty  transplanted  to  the  sunnier  clime, 

Inhere  fashion  smiles  on  virtue  with  disdain, 
Bloometh  richly  and  more  beautiful  as  Time 

Unrols  the  titles  of  her  right  to  reign: 
Her  holy  glance  rebuketh  hoary  crime; 

Lechers  adore  the  love  they  dare  not  stain; 
Her  smile,  like  sun-beams,  all  pollution  spurns ; 
Her  love  grows  purer  as  it  brighter  burns. 

x. 

So  sweet  the  tones  now  falling  on  his  ear; 

Rich  as  the  mellow  music  of  the  morn; 
So  beautiful  to  him  doth  she  appear, 

Who  was  so  rudely  from  his  presence  torn; 
Hath  she  indeed  escaped  the  fowler's  snare, 

With  all  her  vestal  loveliness  unshorn  ? 
May  not  real  joys  be  so  divine,  they  seem 
The  airy  pleasures  of  a  golden  dream  ? 

XI. 

Sweet  memories  came  with  love-enshrined  beams, 
Lightly  as  stars  patrol  the  realms  of  night, 

Shedding  soft  lustre  on  those  distant  streams, 
Where  first  in  solitude  he  sought  delight; 

Where,  rapt  with  ecstacies  of  young  love/s  dreams, 
His  soul  entranced  beheld  that  child  of  light, 

Whose  spirit  as  an  angel  guard  was  given, 

To  cheer  his  heart  and  guide  his  steps  to  heaven. 
K* 


128  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XII. 
He  murmured,  ISABEL  !     His  pallid  face 

Flushed  with  the  softening  gleams  of  fond  emotion ; 
His  kindling  brow  consumed  the  latent  trace 

Of  care,  and  glistened  with  sublime  devotion; 
His  burning  lips  dissolved  in  liquid  grace, 

Flowing  from  mellow  rose-lips  in  commotion, 
His  arms  with  fancied  pressure  were  entwining 
The  lovely  being  on  his  breast  reclining. 

XIII. 

A  maiden  o'er  a  crystal  fountain  blushing, 
Enamoured  of  her  own  reflected  charms; 

A  youth  enraptured  with  the  impetuous  rushing 
Of  passion's  torrent  in  its  first  alarms; 

A  lover  struggling  in  the  grateful  gushing 

Of  love's  spring-tide,  and  young  love's  rosy  arms, 

Enjoy  a  banquet  of  exquisite  pleasure — 

A  bounded  bliss,  which  hath  a  certain  measure: 

XIV. 

Boundless  the  bliss,  priceless  the  richer  treasure, 

Excelling  far  in  measure  and  degree, 
The  heighth  and  depth  of  that  immortal  pleasure 

Which  love,  when  chastened  with  adversity, 
Pours  in  the  heart  with  unrestricted  measure, 

As  rivers  pour  their  fulness  in  the  sea; 
True  hearts  dissolve,  commingle  and  refine; 
And  kindred  souls  breathe  fellowship  divine. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  O  .  129 

XV. 

Subdued  by  transports,  enervate  of  bliss, 
ANSELMO  yieldeth  to  his  phantom  prize; 

In  fancy  sips  the  nectar  of  her  kiss ; 

Still  hears  the  mellow  murmuring  of  her  sighs ; 

Dreams  not  of  joys  in  other  worlds  like  this ; 
Drinks  deep  salvation  from  her  loving  eyes ; 

"We  part  to  meet  again" — was  gently  spoken, 

"The  orange  blossom  is  our  mutual  token." 

XVI. 

Who  would  not  dare  the  dreary  shades  below, 

The  sublimated  joys  of  angels  shun, 
To  prove  the  softer,  richer,  deeper  glow 

Of  woman's  love,  in  loving  raptures  won  ? 
One  hour  of  love  amends  an  age  of  woe; 

One  gleam  of  love  outshines  the  eternal  sun: 
He  liveth  not  in  vain  to  whom  is  given 
Love's  hour,  which  balanceth  the  bliss  of  heaven. 

XVII. 

From  the  warm  embrace  of  the  fiery  sun, 
Exhausted  Day  adown  the  glowing  west, 

With  light  opprest,  sank  languidly  upon 

Its  gorgeous  couch  of  clouds,  as  on  the  breast, 

Of  mothers,  infants  sink — till  one  by  one 
The  stars  shone  out  on  the  cerulean  vest,     * 

In  which  from  olden  time,  majestic  night, 

Arrays  herself  to  give  the  world  delight. 


130  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XVIII. 

From  her  gem-azure  drapery,  replete 

With  balmy  odors  and  enchanting  dreams, 

Fell  mist-like,  soporiferously  sweet, 

O'er  the  departing  Day  her  chastening  gleams; 

Her  breath  of  fragrance  for  young  seraphs  meet, 
Mingled  with  the  melody  of  purling  streams, 

Whose  velvet  banks  embossed  with  fadeless  flowers, 

Beguile  love-laden  youth  from  weary  hours. 

XIX. 

In  vain  the  beautifully  pensive  Eve 

Bent  o'er  the  fainting  Day — for  he  expired: 

She  mourned  the  ills  her  skill  could  not  relieve, 
Yielded  the  prize  to  which  her  hope  aspired; 

Buoyant,  her  starry  pinions  poised,  to  leave      [spired, 
The  saddening  scene,  when  with  new  thoughts  in- 

By  the  mellifluous  charms  of  love  and  mirth, 

She  lingered  to  behold  the  joys  of  earth. 

xx. 

Airy  and  spacious  were  the  lofty  halls, 
Resembling  more  a  suit  of  sylvan  bowers; 

The  tapestry  which  graced  the  springing  walls, 
Was  jasmine  woven  with  Biura  flowers, 

Forming  a  canopy  for  water-falls 

Descending  in  soft  aromatic  showers; 

No  net-work  barred  the  perfumed  breath  of  even, 

No  dome  shut  out  the  starry  vault  of  heaven. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  131 

XXI. 
And  there  were  avenues  of  fragrant  lime, 

O'er-arching  smooth,  broad  tessalated  aisles, 
Strewn  with  the  blossoms  of  a  tropic  clime; 

The  intersections — Palo  de  buba  Isles, 
Floating  in  crystal  founts;  like  those  where  Time 

Soothes  grief  with  love,  crowns  age  with  dimpling 
Ambrosial  islands  of  a  far  off  sea,  [smiles; 

Where  beauty  blooms  in  immortality. 

XXII. 

The  air  effulgent  suffused  mellow  light. 

Above,  below  through  dales  and  fragrant  groves ; 
So  soft  and  rich,  so  roseate  and  bright, 

Tinting  the  visual  orbs  like  those  of  doves, 
Languor's  voluptuous  pressure  on  the  sight, 

The  luminous  aroma  of  young  loves; 
Mysterious  radiance  of  commingling  beams; 
Where  shades  are  real — realities  are  dreams. 

XXIII. 

Around  the  fountains  laughing  boys  were  playing, 
And  timid  girls  a  sweet  approval  smiling; 

Lovers  beneath  the  clustering  vines  were  straying; 
Each  other  with  fond  blandishments  beguiling ; 

Lovers  of  pleasure  in  cool  grottoes — staying     [whiling 
Their  tastes  with  fruit  and  wine;  each  class  thus 

Away  the  prelude  of  the  festival, 

Which  crowns  with  glory  the  high  carnival. 


132  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XXIV. 

Diffusive  bliss,  like  lentulus  and  thyme, 

In  dreamfulness  each  drowsy  sense  was  sealing, 

When,  like  deep  thunder  from  a  far-off  clime, 

Music  rent  the  air — her  loudest  tones  were  pealing; — 

Then  softened  to  a  distance — mellowing  chime,    [ing: 
Like  vernal  zephyrs  through  young  palm  groves  steal" 

The  lark  sprang  up  on  high  to  hail  the  dawn, 

And  chanticleer  proclaimed  the  opening  morn. 

xxv. 
Young  life  exultant  from  love's  drowsy  dreams, 

Bounded  with  lightsome  step  and  tuneful  measure; 
And  from  the  grottoes'  cool  refreshing  streams, 

Came  forth  in  bands,  the  elder  heirs  of  pleasure; 
All  faces  joyful  with  harmonious  gleams 

Of  love's  first,  latest,  renovated  treasure: 
A  gay,  glad,  gleeful,  gratulatory  throng, 
Blending  together  in  the  dance  and  song. 

XXVI. 

A  world  in  miniature;  a  strain  transposes 
Each  jocund  dancer  to  the  other's  place; 

Another  strain — the  vista  half-discfoses, 
Measuring  the  figure  with  excelling  grace, 

Erato,  crowned  with  myrtles  and  with  roses, 
Leading  the  dance — a  fairy  troupe  who  trace 

The  mazy  labyrinths  of  the  winding  measure, 

Whose  chaste  variety  gives  constant  pleasure. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0.  133 

XXVII. 

Growing  more  merry  with  increasing  mirth, 

Alike  forgetful  of  disparity; 
None  urge  the  claims  of  place — the  pride  of  birth: 

Wealth  waltzeth  on  with  matron  charity; 
Legates  of  heaven  dance  minuets  of  earth; 

Proud  learning  polkas  with  hilarity: 
Music  creative  as  the  blast  Abanga, 
Mingles  all  measures  in  the  grave  Fandango. 

XVIII. 

Evening  still  lingered  in  the  western  sky, 

Charmed  with  the  harmless  gayeties  of  mortals ; 

The  moon,  from  her  light  fleecy  throne  on  high, 
Shed  softest  radiance  through  the  leafy  portals, 

Blending  her  charms  with  zephyr's  warmer  sigh, 
Which,  lovers  breathing,  soon  become  immortals, 

Bidding  adieu  to  earthly  cares  and  blisses, 

They  feast  on  smiles,  luxuriate  in  kisses. 

XXIX. 

And  night  came  on — the  deep  and  solemn  night, 
The  beautiful,  the  grand  and  the  sublime, 

Arrayed  in  brilliant  robes  of  changeless  light, 
Paused  in  her  proud  and  lofty  march  with  Time ; 

Gazing  a  moment  on  the  lovely  sight, 
So  perfect  in  its  beauty  and  its  chime ; 

A  tear-drop  glistened  in  her  gracious  eye, 

Prophetic  of  some  scene  of  sorrow  nigh. 


134  A  N  S  E  L  M  O  . 

XXX. 
And  merry  maskers  came;  a  motley  band 

Of  youth,  of  wit,  of  beauty  and  of  grace; 
Here  one  with  inert  age  twirls  hand  in  hand, 

Another  peereth  in  some  younger  face; 
Like  meteors  bursting  o'er  a  luminos  strand; 

Like  comets  streaming  through  star-radiant  space: 
All  praise  the  splendor  of  the  coruscation; 
All  hail  with  joy  the  blissful  inspiration. 

XXXI. 

A  monologue,  in  foreign  accent,  charms; 

A  dulcet  voice  trills  forth  a  monody; 
A  duet,  tremulous  with  love's  alarms, 

Discourse  soul-captivating  melody; 
Triplets  in  tritones,  gravity  disarms; 

And  quartets  warble  softest  symphony: 
Anon,  all  in  harmonious  chorus  join, 
Heavenly  the  strain,  the  fellowship  divine. 

XXXII. 

And  there  was  One,  whose  princely  gait  inspired 

In  all  a  more  than  wonted  deference; 
Whose  graceful  measure  all  the  fair  Admired, 

And  sought  his  hand  with  anxious  preference ; 
Who  sought  him  seemed  by  him  to  be  desired; 

In  courteous  phrase  and  without  reference 
To  age,  to  wit,  to  beauty  or  to  station, 
He  charmed  the  moments  of  each  gay  flirtation. 


ANSEL  M 


XXXIII. 

His  rich,  deep,  voice  rang  out  in  tones  so  clear, 
So  fraught  with  patient  hope  and  burning  love, 

The  fragrant  groves  and  softly  luminous  air, 

Seemed  vocal  with  strains  floating  from  above,  — 

Triumphant  rhapsodies  of  conquering  prayer,  — 
Warblings  more  plaintive  than  the  pensive  dove: 

A  Roman  toga,  his  disguise,  pro  tanto  ; 

His  symbol  the  fair  Espirito  Santo. 

xxxiv. 
In  his  right  hand,  by  wreathlets  well  disguised, 

He  held  a  rose  geranium  with  care, 
A  gift  of  love,  by  him  too  highly  prized, 

To  proffer  undistinguished  to  the  fair; 
Designed  for  her  whose  beauty  realized 

The  loveable  ideal  —  light  as  air, 
And  luminous  as  light;  the  fond  heart's  goal, 
The  magellanic  cloudlet  of  the  soul. 

xxxv. 
Hail,  love's  effulgence!     An  admiring  tone, 

Greets  beauty  waltzing  the  emblossomed  aisle  ; 
Graceful  as  Valisneria  floats  the  Rhone; 

Or,  zephyr-wafting  Visca  soars  the  Nile; 
Blooming  as  Yenus  on  night's  brow  alone, 

Charming  as  rosy  dawn's  awakening  smile: 
Sweet  voices  murmur  rapturous  admiration, 

A  shout  proclaims  the  general  approbation. 
L 


136  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XXXVI. 
Softly  as  Spring's  infantile  dew-drop  presses 

On  fair  Mimosa's  chastely-yielding  breast; 
Gently  as  starlight  streameth,  like  love's  tresses, 

Adown  the  glowing  mountains  of  the  West; 
Lightly  as  vernal  loves,  in  summer  dresses, 

Come  in  our  dreams  with  rapturous  unrest; 
So  did  her  lightsome  measure  o'er  the  blossoms 
Stir  the  fond  memories  of  faithful  bosoms. 

XXXVII. 

Her  gauze-like  trail,  the  smooth  mosaic  sweeping, 
Graceful  as  fleecy  cloudlets  thwart  the  sky; 

Then  rising  in  light  folds,  as  chastely  sleeping 
On  her  voluptuous  form,  as  though  no  eye 

Beheld  the  dimpling  charms  beneath  them  peeping, 
Moved  by  the  slight  emotions  of  a  sigh: 

Like  violets  from  their  mossy  dells  emerging; 

Like  wavelets  over  blushing  coral  surging. 

xxxvin. 
White  roses  on  her  blushing  temples  prest, 

Soft  love-knots  of  a  dewey  myrtle  wreath, 
Whence  o'er  her  ivory  neck  and  snowy  breast, 

To  shade  from  vulgar  gaze  the  charms  beneath, 
A  roseate  veil  fell  like  a  fluttering  vest, 

Light  as  the  mist  on  mirrors  maidens  breathe; 
Rich  as  the  shadowy  masquerade  of  even, 
It  gave  the  charms  it  hid  the  hues  of  heaven. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  137 

XXXIX. 

On  her  fair  smoothen  brow,  less  to  illume 
Than  absorb  purer  rays,  a  diamond  shone; 

White  as  the  driven  snow,  a  downy  plume 
Bent  o'er  her  shining  braids — an  ebon  throne, 

Where  like  a  queen,  luxuriant  of  bloom, 
A  budding  moss-rose  calmly  reigned  alone; 

A  symbol  of  that  sweet  angelic  merit, 

Which  virtue  robed  in  beauty  doth  inherit. 

XL. 
Soft  as  the  music  of  the  winding  stream 

To  weary  pilgrims  in  a  desert  place; 
Sweet  as  the  murmurs  of  her  first-born's  dream 

To  the  young  mother  gazing  on  his  face ; 
Rapt  as  the  rise  and  fall,  to  lovers  seem, 

Of  passion's  tide,  infused  with  love  and  grace — 
So  rose  and  fell  the  oft  repeated  strain, 
Hail!     Thou  the  loveliest  of  beaut}7's  train. 

XLI. 
Pleasure  dipt  her  pencil  in  the  fount  of  love, 

And  with  soft  touches  did  each  face  relume; 
More  fond  emotions  gentler  bosoms  move, 

Star-glances  soften,  shadowy  brows  illume; 
Over  the  vermeil  cheek  love's  dimples  rove 

Mid  smiles  suffusing  more  angelic  bloom — 
Beauty  foldeth  pleasure  in  her  rosy  arms, 
And  sportive  pleasure  crowneth  beauty's  charms. 


138  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

XLII. 
In  the  fine  texture  of  the  human  heart,  [sure, 

Which  throbs  the  depth  of  woe,  the  heighth  of  plea- 
There  is  inwoven  in  its  holiest  part 

A  thread  of  first-love,  which  sustains  the  pressure, 
Of  all  the  crushing'  ills  neglect  and  art 

Inflict  in  bitter  draught  and  boundless  measure; 
Which,  when  all  other  heart-woof  fades,  decays, 
Holds  young-life's  warp  in  love  of  other  days. 

XLIII. 
Hath  that  fine  harp  of  universal  tone, 

Which  mortals  sweep  with  unsurpassing  art; 
Whose  music  charms  the  monarch  on  his  throne, 

And  equal  bliss  to  peasants  doth  impart, 
Alike  in  torrid  clime  and  frozen  zone, 

Nature's  melodeon — a  mother's  heart — 
A  chord  which  doth  midst  every  change  rejoice 
In  tones  responsive  to  her  offspring's  voice  ? 

XLIV. 
Harp  of  mysterious  power,  thou  lover's  heart! 

Lyre  of  priceless  worth  and  countless  treasure! 
Thy  sounding  numbers  spurn  the  touch  of  Art; 

Sighs  sweep  vibrations  of  tumultuous  pleasure; 
Thy  thoughts  of  fire  rapt  melodies  impart; 

Love's  line  of  beauty  is  thy  boundless  measure: 
Bards  bend  extatic  o'er  thy  tuneful  slumbers; 
Gods  hear  delirious  thine  immortal  numbers! 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  139 

XLV. 

A  glance  may  fascinate  a  noble  soul; 

A  piercing  gaze  unbend  the  lion's  crest; 
A  deep,  dark,  daring,  dazzling  eye  control 

The  stormy  passions  of  the  human  breast; 
The  azure  eye  of  love,  from  pole  to  pole, 

Disturb,  and  give  the  troubled  spirit  rest: 
But  all  the  varying  language  of  the  eye 
Hath  not  the  pathos  of  a  murmuring  sigh. 

XLVI. 
Her  sigh  of  love  awakes  the  slumbering  lyre ; 

Her  breath  of  music  stirs  its  tuneful  dreams ; 
Her  thoughts  responsive  melodies  inspire, 

Till  warbling  echoes,  like  commingling  streams, 
Flow  in  voluptuous  measure !     Soft  desire 

And  love  illume  all  eyes  with  fondest  gleams: 
In  dreamy,  rapturous  silence  all  rejoice — 

Charmed  with  the  mellow  music  of  her  voice: 

1. 

How  sweet  the  first  transports  of  joy  which  endeareth ! 

How  blissful  the  thought  of  hearts  mingled  in  one; 
When  love  in  the  shadowy  distance  appeareth, 

As  through  showers  appeareth  the  radiant  sun; 
And  every  moment,  by  anticipation, 
We  drink  deeper  draughts,  though  with  insatiation 
Of  fountains  o'erflowing  with  gratification, 

And  desire  and  bliss,  in  the  bower  of  love. 
L* 


140  A  N  S  E  L  M  0. 

2. 

Oh,  sweeter  by  far,  when  the  fond  heart  enjoyeth, 
The  fullness  of  pleasure  which  one-ness  imparts; 

Each  draught  more  delicious  and  deeper,  nor  cloyeth 
The  gush  of  delight  from  sweet  union  of  hearts! 

And  broader  and  richer  the  stream  from  each  flowing; 

The  flame  of  affection  more  ardently  glowing, 

We  mingle  together,  like  fountains  overflowing, 
And  dove-like  inhabit  the  bower  of  love ! 

3. 

Oh,  sweetest  of  all,  when  the  sad  heart  reposes 

Serenely  and  soft  on  the  bosom  of  love; 
When  thornless  the  pillow,  though  fading  the  roses, 

Yet  fragrant  as  flowerets  blooming  above! 
We  live  o'er  again  in  our  fond  recollection, 
Those  transports  of  joy  sanctified  by  affection,     [tion, 
Which  sunshine  and  showers  have  brought  to  perfec- 
In  hallowed  groves  of  the  bower  of  love! 

4. 

ANSELMO,  I  come!     Thou  loved  one  of  my  childhood; 

Receive  to  thy  bosom  thy  wandering  dove! 
The  far  off  Potomac,  its  rocks  and  its  wild-wood, 

Proclaim  evermore  our  first  sorrow  and  love ! 
Though  care  shadeth  thy  brow,  those  shadows  are  fairer 
Than  the  bloom  of  young  love!  Than  gems  richer  and 
Love  groweth  not  old ;  it  grows  gentler  and  dearer  [rarer ! 

Let  thy  bosom  then  be  my  own  bower  of  love ! 


A  N  S  E  L  M  O  .  141 

XLVII. 

As  rose-buds  open  to  the  gentle  shower, 

So  sweetly  verse  disparts  her  lips  of  pleasure; 
Entranced,  as  young  love's  first  enrapturing  hour, 

The  ambient  air  resounds  the  charmful  measure! 
The  nightingale  soars  from  her  echoing  bower,     [ure  ! 

To  hymn  the  strain — but  droops  with  tuneful  press. 
Fraught  with  fine  harmonies  clouds  soar  above, 

And  wondering  seraphs  sing  the  Bower  of  Love. 

XLVIII. 
Young  Cupid,  who  beneath  her  jetty  curls 

In  ambush  lay,  began  to  burn  and  shiver ; 
His  feverish  brow  with  sweet  delirium  whirls — 

His  hands  grow  cold — down  fell  his  bow  and  quiver; 
Grasping  the  glances  of  her  eyes,  he  hurls 

Those  shafts  divine  from  love's  own  azure  river, 
Promiscuously  midst  that  adoring  throng — 
A  wild  approval  of  the  enchanting  song. 

XLIX. 
ANSELMO  wondered  at  this  new  creation ; 

His  throbbing  temples  intense  feeling  flushing; 
His  heart  responsive  with  strange  palpitation, 

To  the  warm  tides  from  out  its  caverns  gushing — 
Like  mountain  torrents  over  vegetation, 

Sweeping  resistlessly — deepening — rushing ; 
He  sprang  to  clasp  this  loveliest  Israfel, 
Raptly  exclaiming,  Hail!  my  ISABEL! 


142  A  X  S  E  L  M  0  . 

L. 

He  of  the  princely  gait  had  rushed  before  him ; 

Had  dared  the  flood  which  swept  his  soul  away; 
His  love-delirium  might  well  assure  him 

That  such  wild  phrenzy  would  his  heart  betray: 
'I  burn  like  the  adoring  seraphim," 

Burst  from  his  writhing  lips  in  agony: 
Charming  in  madness — in  subduernent  grand, 
He  crushed  the  rose-geranium  in  his  hand — 

LI. 
And  flung  the  bruised  odoriferous  leaves, 

As  though  he  had  her  chosen  lover  been! 
Strong  is  the  unseen  network  Passion  weaves; 

Princes  are  spell-bound  by  her  dazzling  sheen; 
She  spares  no  victims,  granteth  no  reprieves ; 

Smiles  on  the  tortures  of  her  slaves  serene; 
Wrecks  the  adventurer  whom  her  fires  beguile, 
And  with  the  fragments  rears  his  funeral  pile. 

LII. 
ANSELMO'S  senses  in  rapt  transports  reeling, 

Felt  not  the  wounding  shock  of  rude  collision; 
Saw  not  the  sinuous  step  of  danger  stealing 

Position  whence  to  strike  with  dread  precision; 
One  only  sentiment  absorbed  all  feeling, — 

One  only  object  did  engross  his  vision, — 
A  lily-hand  with  a  rich  orange  blossom, 
Resting  full  soothely  on  his  fluttering  bosom. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  143 

LIII. 
Fierce  as  the  ravening  tiger  tracks  his  prey; 

Swift  as  the  bright  bolt  bursteth  from  the  sky; 
The  masker  flung  his  dark  disguise  away, 

And  stood  erect,  and  cried,  "  bold  rival,  die:" 
A  grant's  arm  were  powerless  to  stay 

The  poniard  swift  descending  from  on  high, 
By  all,  save  love's  keen  glance,  unseen: — where  fell 
The  thirsty  blade,  there  lay  fair  ISABEL. 

LIV. 
The  rose-tint  fadeth  from  her  angel  face; 

Impurpling  streams  distain  her  snowy  vest; 
Lifting  her  drooping  eyes,  she  said,  with  grace, 

"Since  thou  art  safe,  my  love,  I  sweetly  rest!" 
Death  with  dark  lineaments  refused  to  trace 

Tne  lily  resting  on  ANSELMO'S  breast: 
While  yet  her  shrinking  life-pulse  quivereth 
His  burning  lips  absorb  her  fleeting  breath. 

LV. 
Back  on  his  heart  the  Bishop  felt  the  gush 

Of  love,  grief,  guilt,  a  dark,  remorseless  flood ; 
His  pallid  temples  were  no  longer  flush 

With  raging  passion  burning  in  his  blood: 
Despair  o'erwhelmed  him  in  her  demon  rush; 

Horror  froze  him  to  the  spot  whereon  he  stood ; 
Mute  terror  sealed  his  lips,  convulsed  his  frame, 
Rent  his  proud  spirit,  crushed  his  soul  in  shame. 


144  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LVI. 

We  mourn  to  sec  the  blush  of  beauty  fading 
Untimely  from  the  downy  cheok  of  youth; 

To  see  the  kind  and  virtuous  retrograding 
From  the  blest  paths  of  innocence  and  ruth; 

To  see  the  darksome  cloud  of  falsehood  shading 
The  noble  brow  once  luminous  with  truth: 

We  shrink  to  see  the  strong  man  bear  alone 

The  stroke  which  hurls  his  reason  from  its  throne. 

LVII. 
Doom  me  to  grasp  the  lightning's  fiery  wing; 

To  rush  repellant  midst  storm-riven  skies ; 
To  wage  war  with  Apollyon,  and  bring 

His  demons  forth  as  the  sole-victor  prize; 
To  brave  with  curses  the  Eternal  King — 

With  reason  to  direct  the  grand  emprize: 
These  might  I  dare!     But  save  me  from  the  blight 
Of  reason  wandering  midst  unbroken  night. 

LVIII. 
There  stood  the  Bishop  Juan!     Tall  and  erect; 

So  late  a  noble  specimen  of  man; 
The  prayerful  Patriarch  of  God's  elect ; 

The  boldest  foe  of  Pedro's  mountain  clan ; 
His  large  blue  eyes  were  glazed  with  retrospect, — 

To  one  sole  point  his  thoughts  converging  ran: 
His  soul  surcharging  with  the  flood  so  fell, — 
Burst  in  one  shriek:  "Alas,  dear  Isabel!" 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0 .  145 

LIX. 

Beside  him,  hand  in  hand,  Don  Manuel 

And  the  fair  Nun,  sweet  types  of  love  and  joy, 

Lovely  and  beautiful,  as  poets  tell, 

Were  Cytherea  and  her  darling  Boy, — 

Stood  mutely  gazing  on  the  mystic  spell, 

Which  bound  in  chains,  and  threatened  to  destroy 

Him,  whom  they  sought,  to  challenge  as  a  foe ; 

Him  whom  they  found  to  pity  for  his  woe.    • 

LX. 

And  he  beheld  them!     Did  the  charm  beguile 
The  fate  which  paralyzed  his  mighty  soul  ? 

A  gushing  tear-drop  solved  the  film  awhile; 
Back  from  his  brow  dark  shadows  slowly  roll, — 

His  rigid  face  relaxeth  to  a  smile, 

And  reason  momently  resumes  control: 

On  Manuel's  head  he  laid  his  hand  with  joy, — 

And  calmly  said — May  Heaven  bless  thee,  Boy! 

LXI. 
And  she  was  there — the  mother  of  that  boy; 

And  to  his  father's  blessing  response  gave : 
Pale  Julia's  heart  was  overwhelmed  with  joy, — 

Her  voice  to  Juan  a  message  from  the  grave! 
Words  fraught  with  sweet  salvation  may  destroy! 

From  destiny  no  mortal  power  can  save: 
Juan's  fingers  beat  an  idiotic  patter^ 
His  lips  convulsive  ran  with  senseless  chatter. 

OF  THE 

•UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNIA 


146  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

LXII. 
Iii  boundless  mercy  pitying  Heaven  sent 

Her  erring  son  a  blessing  in  disguise; 
A  deafening  shout  the  awful  silence  rent, — 

Pedro,  the  robber,  stood  before  their  eyes: 
On  his  advancing  foe  the  Bishop  bent 

One  maniac  gaze — and  swift  as  lightning  flies, — 
Rushed  on  him  with  demoniac  might  and  main, — 
Both  bleeding,  fell;  and  falling,  both  were  slain. 

LXIII. 
The  hours  flung  wide  the  portals  of  the  Day; 

Night  from  her  starry  throne  did  gently  glide ; 
The  cannon  echoing  from  the  mole  and  bay, 

Proclaimed  Don  Carlos  and  his  youthful  bride: 
The  dreamless  combatants  were  borne  away; 

And  left  to  sleep  forever  side  by  side! 
The  noble  warrior,  satiate  with  slaughter, 
Embraced  Don  Manuel — and  forgave  his  daughter! 

LXIV. 
Though  over  ISABEL  all  deeply  mourned, 

Than  in  full  life,  she  seemed  more  passing  fair; 
Divine  repose  her  pallid  brow  adorned,' 

Her  sad  face  wore  a  sweet  angelic  air; 
Even  death  was  by  her  loveliness  suborned, 

His  dart  uplifted — poised — he  did  not  dare 
To  strike, — for,  oh,  so  beautiful — so  still— 
Those  silent  charms  did  enervate  his  will. 


A  N  S  E  L  M  0  .  147 

LXV. 

Droop  not,  my  love,  ANSELMO  lowly  sighed; 

Droop  not — thy  head  is  pillowed  on  my  breast; 
Arrest  the  ebbing  of  Life's  purple  tide, 

And  make  this  heart  the  haven  of  tlry  rest; 
My  beautiful !  My  spirit's  cherished  bride, 

Live!     And  my  life  shall  be  supremely  blest: 
Thou  shalt  not  die !     My  breath  sh  all  be  thy  breath ! 
My  kiss  shall  charm  thee  from  the  spell  of  Death! 

LXVI. 
Oh,  Death!     I  know  thou  wilt  be  lenient,  Death: 

'Tis  but  thy  shadow  which  hath  fallen  here: 
Nor  life,  nor  love,  nor  beauty  slumbereth 

.More  lovely!     Death,  thou  hast  no  melting  tear! 
These  gushing  tears  are  the  ethereal  Itreath 

Of  ministering  Angels  hovering  near! 
Oh,  linger  not,  lest  thy  dread  presence  fright 
Her  gentle  spirit  from  these  realms  of  light. 

LXVII. 
The  morning  beams  were  on  her  tresses  playing; 

Her  pallid  lips  with  prayer  were  gently  riven; 
O'er  her  calm  brow  some  tender  thoughts  were  straying 

Of  life  and  love, — like  shadows  of  the  even; 
The  lights  and  shades  evanishing,  delaying, 

Were  mingled  tints  of  earth  and  hues  of  heaven: 
A  struggling  sigh  escaped  her  swelling  bosom, 
Tinging  her  cheeks  with  Life's  reviving  blossom. 


148  A  N  S  E  L  M  0  . 

XLVII. 

She  lives!     She  lives!     ANSELMO  raptly  cried: 
The  night  hath  passed,  the  daylight  doth  appear; 

The  storm  hath  swept  the  murky  air  aside, 

And  winter's  frost  dissolves  in  Spring's  warm  tear! 

Sweet  Spring!     Thou  bringest  to  my  long-sought  bride;, 
The  buds  and  blossoms  of  love's  opening  year! 

Immortal  fruits  and  amaranthine  flowers, 

Shall  crown  our  loves  in  hymeneal  bowers! 


LXIX. 
See,  thronging  the  cathedral,  sprightly  bands 

Of  youth  and  maidens  drawn  by  some  sweet  spell! 
Before  the  consecrated  altar,  stands 

ANSELMO,  and  the  charming  ISABEL: 
The  holy  Priest  hath  joined  their  plighted  hands; 

Throughout  the  dome  the  marriage  anthems  swell! 
Thus  Heaven  vests  the  rights  of  nuptial  life, 
And  crowns  the  faithful  BRIDE  a  loving  WIFE. 


^fy^v 

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(UNIVERSITY) 

OF 


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